The large wooden play structure we had designed was finished a few weeks ago by Domingo, one of our faithful team members who is a local pastor in his 50s who serves with us as the Christian Leadership teacher, Carpentry Club leader, and elementary math teacher. We love the way it turned out, and the kids are all over it every chance they get! It has added a very fun and dynamic dimension to recess and lunch hour, and it supports our overall mission to restore broken youth spiritually, emotionally and physically for God’s glory.
Living Waters Ranch to Enter a Three-Week Intensive Mid-Year Term
With our roughly-40 students (8 from our foster/adoptive family and about 30 from our local community who participate daily in our discipleship-based homeschool) we will be entering a three-week period of different classes as of next week to ‘shake things up’ while further equipping our youth with experiences and knowledge they need in order to continue growing and exploring God’s will for their lives. My husband Darwin will be giving several intensive choir workshops; I’ll be teaching a Biblically-based world geography class (in addition to a crash course in grammar along with several Speech/Communication workshops) with our older students; and each child/teen will have the option of ‘specializing’ in one of several areas, including English as a second language, Agriculture/Christian Leadership, Carpentry/Christian Leadership, etc. All students will be involved in twice-weekly art classes during this mid-term time, and we’ll continue faithfully with our Bible study and prayer groups as usual.
The following three pictures were taken during Darwin’s reading class. (This is our 15-year-old son Brayan who is so sweaty because he just came in from recess). Darwin has been extremely creative in the class as he’s taught the kids to read in latin, organize a class play, study the Scriptures, watch and write about motivational videos, read personal and spiritual anecdotes from great spiritual leaders from centuries past, read about brain psychology, and so on. The students Darwin has in his class are teens who generally don’t get too excited about reading (and/or are extremely shy and prefer to just sit there as Wallflowers), so his very concentrated (and energetic) efforts with these guys has had a phenomenal impact on their integral development.
Ariel, 14 years old
Eduardo, 14 years old
Donaris, 13 years old
Rolan, 15 years old
Eber, 17 years old
Updates Regarding Katy
The lawyer from the local government office has yet to fulfill her word to go out to Katy’s family’s home to investigate her living situation, although she promises to do so this upcoming week. Please pray for all the government workers involved, as they are overburdened with cases of child abuse, neglect, etc, and the personnel and their resources simply aren’t enough to manage each one with excellence. Our home and our hearts are prepared to accept Katy into our home if and when the Lord should bring her, and we continue our active communication with the government agency in hopes of her rescue.
A couple weeks ago Darwin went out to spend time with and take a few photos of five of our night watchman’s children who are all in our school on the elementary level. Our relationship with them began almost three years ago, and God has blessed our friendship with their family in a very special way. All of the kids had not previously been in school, and the majority of their family members are illiterate and malnourished. The family was accustomed to moving homes frequently in search of jobs and a stable food supply for their family as they struggled in extreme poverty. God brought us into relationship with them first through Darwin’s youth choir, then the kids entered school with us full-time, and now the family as a whole is about to celebrate their 2-year anniversary of living on our property and serving alongside of us. The eldest son is currently in his last year of elementary school in our accelerated program for older students and is on track to enter high school in 2018. The eldest son decided to be publicly baptized last year, and most of the family members are actively involved in Bible study and prayer groups. These kids/teens are also some of our own kids’ best friends, as we all live on the same rural property.
Second-to-the-left is Armando, our faithful night watchman and the father of these five beautiful children. He is generally very quiet and keeps to himself, but Darwin caught him playing with his kids one evening and took advantage of these family photos.
Brayan and Darwin Compete in Local Race
My husband Darwin and Brayan, our 15-year-old son, competed last week in a large organized road race in the nearby city of La Ceiba along with Larry, a longtime spiritual mentor of ours, and several other local youth whom we have friendships with. Events such as these are almost unheard of in our area (there are generally very few organized sports teams for youth, and athletic training of any kind is uncommon), so Brayan and Darwin had been training together for several weeks prior as they got amped up for the big event. Brayan, who came into our lives as a very uncoordinated and broken 12-year-old in 2014, has really taken hold of long-distance running over the past couple months as he’s been training with Darwin and Erick, and he actually won third place in the youth category! I was unable to attend the race (I stayed at home with the rest of our kids), but they told me there were roughly 80 or so teen males who participated, and our son — who comes from very broken places, and whom God has been restoring and healing over the past several years in accordance with His will — came in third! Wow! We are very excited about his newfound self-discipline and motivation that Father God is inculcating in this young man whom we love so much, and Brayan is excited to travel with Darwin and Erick next month to compete in another road race in a city that lies 3 hours away.
Health Updates
As was written on our prior blog post, my health as of late had been quite weak as I was battling Typhoid fever and an aggressive virus. I’ve gone in several days over the past few weeks to a local clinic to receive IV fluids packed with vitamins and antibiotics, and they’ve done their job well! I’ve recuperated strength and energy and have even felt the desire to begin playing with the kids and exercising again. (A couple days ago I got into a pretty extreme game of Monkey-in-the-Middle with a large group of our students and had a blast). Thank you to all of you who have prayed for my recovery.
These photos were taken in Darwin’s twice-weekly PE class. As of July, we will be dividing all of our students up into different PE groups: dance, military patrol training (with Pastor Domingo who was in the military 20 years), long-distance running, sports, and games (for the little guys).
Teachers Attend 3-Day Conference
I am currently attending a 3-day conference with two of our teachers (Isis and Reina) in another city in Honduras as we seek to continue learning about this field that the Lord has placed us in. We’ve attended workshops on the legal side of managing a ministry, heard testimonies and advice from other people who have fostered/adopted kids, learned more about child psychology and how to nurture kids who have been through severe traumas, etc. It has been a fruitful time of making connections with others who serve in similar fields, learning from the experts, and also continuing to form the bond between the three of us as sisters in Christ. Below you’ll see a few silly photos we took when no one else at the conference was looking…
Reina jamming out with the translation headset…
Me pretending to give a speech at the conference. (I was not one of the speakers…)
Isis playing hide-and-seek under our conference table…
A couple days ago I lay with a light bed sheet covering my entire body and tucked up and around my face – the little air-conditioned room where I was receiving the IV was very chilly, and my body was not accustomed to the artificially cold air after having gone several years without it. As I lay there, my eyes studied the bright yellow liquid in the hanging bag that made its way one drop at a time into my veins. I then glanced at the tall window at the foot of the bed that lorded over the tiny room, and I laughed at my predicament.
I have Typhoid fever again along with an aggressive virus, and at the worst of times!
After having spent the duration of the day running around the city for various health-related appointments, blood work, etc, and having walked more than a few blocks under the blistering sun because our car was in the mechanics’, I lay still on the hard little bed and marveled at God’s faithfulness, even to this sick little servant of His. Surely He should have picked someone with a stronger immune system than I to participate with Him in such a work! (But have I not struggled with insomnia, various tropical illnesses, etc, almost without respite these last five years, and has He not fulfilled His will even in the midst of my own weakness?)
Just hours prior I had visited the child protective services’ humble government building hoping to give some kind of follow-up to Katy’s case. Darwin and I had continued praying for the little girl over the last several days, asking Father God to indicate to us what to do. First our 16-year-old daughter Dayana and then 12-year-old Josselyn, Katy’s older biological sister who has been living with us nearly two years, had both approached us independently, telling us they felt that we should bring Katy to our home to raise her. After all, Father God had confirmed the same in our hearts, but a week had gone by and we had yet to act. I had thought rebelliously: But I’m sick! Right now I don’t want to receive a new child; I just want to lay my spinning head down! Bring the new child when I’m feeling like Wonder Woman!
But even as I lay there in that chilly, isolated room I knew there comes a time when the rubber of obedience must hit the road; we mustn’t sit around ‘waiting for answers’ all day when He has plainly showed us the path we are to take.
Thus, earlier that day I found myself entering that little government building and seeking out one of the head lawyers, a very kind Christian woman who works closely with the social worker who had accompanied me on the visit the week prior. I was in a cold sweat and more than slightly dizzy as she allowed me to enter her small workspace to talk. Our prayer over the last several days had been: Lord, if it is Your will that Katy come to live with us, open doors (and hearts) in the government agency, and compel them to move forward on the case.
The lawyer seemed stilled and completely attentive, which is no small miracle considering the mounds of paperwork and emergency visits that she is responsible for each day. Oftentimes when we enter the extremely under-staffed building, it seems like everyone is running around with their hair on fire, consumed entirely by the ‘urgent’ perhaps rather than the ‘important’. We have certain specific legal actions we have been requesting from them for years, but their wait-line of ‘emergencies’ is so long that they have yet to get around to our kids’ adoption, creating birth certificates for a couple of our girls, giving us vital paperwork that was due months ago, etc. Getting the Honduran government to move quickly is no task for mortal man!
So when the lawyer put aside her mound of papers, gave me her undivided attention and – what’s more – seemed to really ‘get’ the root of what I was talking about not only on a professional level but also with profound compassion, I suddenly felt convinced that it was God’s will that Katy come live with us. The lawyer assured me that she would put it on her calendar to go out to Katy’s home next Wednesday to investigate the situation further and, quite likely, remove her that same day.
I thanked her several times for her availability and collaboration, although, before leaving the office, I felt compelled to say more. My mind spun in a few circles as I fought hard to focus, as is one of the symptoms of Typhoid fever. I continued, carefully: “I have to tell you that Katy also has a little brother. I have not seen him, but our girls have told us about him and I believe he is roughly 4 years old. I hope to God that he is okay and can remain living in his family situation – because the Lord knows we already have a lot of our plate! – but when you go out to their home to investigate Katy’s case on Wednesday, it is possible that you will see him and may feel that he, too, is in danger and needs to be removed from their home. If that is the case –” I breathed deeply, remembering that all of this is about fulfilling God’s will rather than our own “– we can accept him too.”
Once the entirety of that sentence escaped my mouth, I knew there was no turning back. I began laughing slightly at the absurdity of it all – I felt I was about to pass out, and just walking from the parking lot to the seat where I sat had been laborious, yet here I found myself on the brink of receiving possibly two new, severely broken little guys! Oh, God, help me! This truly is a task we cannot do alone!
The lawyer completely understood, and I continued, possibly to affirm my own faith in God’s goodness rather than for her benefit. I spoke slowly, again choosing each word carefully: “The path we have travelled with little Gabriela – her recovery thus far from severe sexual abuse and malnutrition – has been a very intensive and trying process, but — by God’s grace — innocence is being recovered. She is learning to read; she hears God’s Word daily; and she is truly blossoming, although it is an arduous process…God has accompanied us during this process as we have been in over our heads on numerous occasions, and if He leads us to begin all over again with Katy – and possibly with the little boy as well…then He will give us the grace we need in order to love them well.” I spoke even slower as I reached the end of my statement: “He will give us the patience, the love and the energy that we lack.”
In my mind, a very clear image presented itself: Darwin and I arriving toward the finish line of a grueling 26.2-mile marathon. We were consumed with sweat and total exhaustion, hauling ourselves over that blessed end mark as we literally gave all we had, nothing left in reserves. We collapsed on the other side, having successfully finished the race – perhaps slowly, with several stops, not having won any kind of medal at all and probably limping more than half the way, but, by golly, we crossed the line – when someone came and announced, “Okay, go immediately back to the start line, and do it all again! Ready, set, go!” and the gun fired to commence the entirely unexpected second part of the marathon.
Wha-? Wait! …No!
I suddenly felt delusional as I stared at the entire race track that had suddenly been laid before us. But we had already run! We had already passed each of the landmarks, leaving drops of sweat, blood and tears all over the course! Maybe, just maybe, we could think about training again after a long period of resting, getting enough liquids and taking some time off, but right now? So soon? Oh, God, lead us to give more Bible studies or to teach more classes or do more community visits – anything but this!
Even as I felt led towards hysteria, I could not have been more convinced of God’s perfect will for our lives and for that of Katy and possibly her little brother. And, what’s more, I had total peace. Exhaustion and sickness, yes. Even dangerously low emotional reserves. But peace and confidence in the Living God who will doubtlessly come to our encounter as He already had, who will equip us from moment to moment to love those whom He is so clearly rescuing and bringing to our care. Peace; yes. I could not be convinced that God would have it any other way.
Outwardly the lawyer and I continued on in joyful, informative conversation for another twenty minutes or so as she inquired sincerely as to the wellbeing of our other kids, how Josselyn had received the news that she won’t be able to return to her biological family, etc. In every sense of the word it was a God-ordained visit, as such a sincere, unhurried conversation is not common in the Honduran sphere of legal matters and government agencies. At the end of the conversation I sensed that God was leading me to pray for her, so I asked her permission and we both extended our hands toward one another, heads bowed right there in her office, and we prayed.
And so, hours later, as I lay in that little bed with the needle in my hand, I rejoiced in my heart of hearts over what Father God is doing with us – is doing in me. Surely this is what it means to store up treasures in heaven; to seek first the Kingdom of God –to show His love to the least of these – before securing worldly comforts and control. Oh, yes, how I have loved control! How I have wanted to cling to my own plans!Oh, how I have wanted to chart out the next five years, check boxes off the list! But He is liberating me from all this and showing me a more excellent way. Secure within the Father’s will, I rest assured that if and when Katy and her little brother move into our household, He is already going before us, preparing even the smallest of details, and will be with us in the moment of trial, of exhaustion, of desperation. He has done miracles in the lives of our other children and teens – and even in the depths of our own hardened hearts – and I sensed He was anxious to begin doing it all over again with two new souls apt for rescue, for salvation.
I turned over in the little bed, the sheet tucked under my chin, and I felt that I had never been more at peace or more fascinated with my God.
A couple hours later, as the IV had finished and I sat on a bench waiting for the doctor to finish with another patient, I felt a bit anxious to get on the road because it was already our family’s Sabbath Hour and I had been gone all day. I wiggled around on the bench as the doctor’s wife, who serves as his assistant, came over to chit-chat with me while I was waiting.
I smiled at her and asked politely, “Do you know how much longer I’ll have to wait? It’s already past 6:00pm, and my husband’s been by himself all afternoon with our kids…”
Her face lit up at the mention of kids, and she inquired as to how many we had.
I laughed before the answer escaped my lips, because I already knew what her reaction would be: “Eight.”
Her eyes doubled in size and her jaw crashed to the floor. (That is the typical reaction.) Before the poor lady had a heart attack, I quickly began explaining God’s calling on our life and that, no, I had not been through eight pregnancies by age 26.
It turned out the doctor’s wife is also a Christian, so that sparked a long and rather dynamic conversation between us as I suddenly found myself telling her the amazing stories of God’s redemptive work in our children’s lives.
She nodded in agreement. I continued, “But when we entered that busy government complex with dozens of kids running around everywhere — me greeting little guys right and left, seeing tons of kids jumping around, sliding on swing sets! — and I suddenly laid eyes on her, God spoke to my heart and said as clear as day ‘She will be your daughter.'”
I jumped ahead to the part where the head honcho at the government agency brought us the three kids he had supposedly mentioned to us via telephone — a young sibling group with the eldest, a male, being nine years old. “And then the director came around the corner, not with the kids he had mentioned, but rather with the girl whom God had told me would be our daughter! There she was with her two younger siblings! I asked her how old she was…” I began laughing out loud as I continued onward in the very familiar story that has forever changed our lives: “…and she responded ’13.’ Thirteen!”
I continued as the doctor’s wife listened with eyes widened with intrigue, with glee: “You know that in this country girls who are 11, 12, 13 years old oftentimes already have children! I mean, to receive a 13-year-old girl into your home as a daughter — without knowing virtually any of her history! — is crazy!”
She nodded in total agreement. My mind spun, now not only from the Typhoid but also in joyful response to this sensation of fast-forwarding that I was mentally experiencing in regard to our journey with our eldest daughter. “Oh, her mother and the majority of her older female relatives are all prostitutes! It has been so hard to break those generational chains — we have been through so much with her, cried in desperation, felt we had reached our limit on dozens of occasions! — but I tell you that now, almost four years later, she is closely walking with the Lord and was publicly baptized last year! She continues to live in our home and under our authority; she is our daughter and we’re in the process of legally adopting her. God’s work has been great!”
To jump from beginning to present-day as I had just done — to remember and even share with someone else the reality in as few words as possible of all that God has done over the course of these 2, 3 or 4 years (depending on each kid’s arrival date), does great things to encourage the heart. In the mundane, in the fire of the trial, in times of fasting and weeping on their behalf, it can perhaps be easily lost on us the miraculous, transformative work that God is doing in our midst. But to take it all in in a single snapshot: to remember the tragic, against-the-odds beginning, fast-forward the years of daily battles and victories, and take in the God-ordained present reality of redemption and transformation — wow! This gives me new fuel.
I felt greatly encouraged by God’s extremely visible hand over her life, and I added: “Being her mom — specifically her mom, not even mentioning our journeys with the other kids — has been absolutely the most difficult, most precious thing God has led me to do in this life. I’ve never done anything harder or more beautiful.”
And so, as one story led to the next and our dialogue deepened and expanded, sharing and encouraging one another in Christ, I left that little clinic under the dark night sky feeling more encouraged than I had expected to. I sensed it was a blessed joy sent specifically from God to lighten my heart during this current season: if our journey with Dayana, our eldest, has been so absolutely demanding — and so absolutely worth it, despite whatever happens in these coming years — can I not participate with Father God even now in anticipating another entirely unique redemptive story in Katy’s life? I felt Father God was rubbing His palms together enthusiastically with a big smile on His face, helping me to remember His absolute faithfulness towards us with each of our other kids as He wanted to incite my heart toward burning joy and great faith in regards to what He has in store for Katy and her little brother.
Please pray with and for us during this time, as the lawyer’s pending visit to investigate Katy’s living situation is three days away. Pray that nothing would interfere with her completing her promised visit, and that all the necessary people involved — Katy’s mom, Katy herself, etc — would be at home and willing to receive the government workers when they arrive Wednesday morning. Please pray, too, for my health, as my activities have been extremely restricted over the last several days and I’ve had to visit a local clinic to receive additional IV treatments since. Pray that the Typhoid fever would be eliminated from my body along with this long-standing virus so that I may regain health and vitality.
Recently we organized an all-day event of various old-fashioned yard games for our students and neighbors. We very intentionally incorporated games that involve teamwork, healthy physical touch, riotous laughter, coordination, and sensory development as many of the youth the Lord has placed in our lives come from very broken places and are in the beginning stages of being restored and renewed by God’s love under our care.
The majority of our young friends are very immature for their age due to not having received vital components in their early childhood (such as adequate parental attention, Biblical guidance, loving discipline, etc), thus they lack healthy self-esteem, an accurate understanding of who God created them to be and the basic tools necessary to confront reality in a godly way. Knowing that these ‘lacks’ in a child or teen’s life propel many toward a life of crime, depression and/or sexual deviancy, we understand that spending a day full of godly friendship, intense laughter and team-building activities goes a long way towards restoring and forming healthy individuals who respond to God’s love and interact with others in a loving way.
In our corner of the globe here in Latin America (as around the world), there is much competition, violence and physical intimidation/abuse among peers and families, so learning to use one’s physical strength to bless others, carry a teammate, etc, is a very important aspect of learning to receive and then be instruments of God’s love in daily life. Patting someone on the back in encouragement, receiving a hug from a trustworthy adult, learning how to give (or receive) a piggy-back ride, etc, are really big steps toward their recovery into loving, joyful beings under the headship of the loving, joyful God.
Furthermore, many of our kiddos have very poor motor skills/physical coordination due to malnutrition and under-stimulation in their early childhood, so all the activities we do with them are geared toward stimulating them toward integral health, growth and abundance according to God’s perfect will for their lives.
So, one of the first games on our agenda was a crazy partner activity. I stood among the many teams of two and shouted out “Backpack!” and the teens had to grab their partner and fling them on their back. Then “Baby!,” which they then scrambled to cradle their friend’s weight in their arms as if they were a precious (oversized) newborn. And so the game went, me shouting out one wild command after another until everyone was panting and heaving, either from laughter or exhaustion…
‘Backpack’, everybody! Get up there!
What a beautiful baby! Don’t let him fall!
One of the next games on the day’s agenda was a fan-favorite that I introduced to them last year: Chinese freeze-tag! My husband Darwin and one of our 50-year-old local teachers (Reina) got in the mix as everyone was running wildly around our yard!
Watch out, Jackeline! Your teacher is gaining on you! Run, Reina, run! (She was such a good sport — she came out on one of her days off in order to participate in all the games with the kids without having any idea what would be in store!)
Look at Darwin go! Our eldest daughter Dayana was hot on his heals, and he was determined not to get caught!
The next game was an old classic: the water balloon toss! Every time you throw it, you’ve gotta take a step back!
Then: hide-and-seek!
I hid in an outdoor trashcan (with the lid on!) and no one found me until one of the teen boys casually walked by, took the lid off, and went to throw some trash on my head! My legs are so long that I had quite the hard time uncurling my body to get out from the tight space once the game was over!
Hey! Who’s hiding out on the school building’s roof?
Next up: a new game I read about on the internet! Everybody has to hop on one leg and use the other one (no hands allowed!) to try to push their partner over! It’s like standing-up leg wrestling. Let’s see who’s got the best balance and endurance!
When Darwin and Brayan went head-to-head (below), neither one wanted to lose! Thank God that we have two very strong, godly men in our household!
Then it was my turn to go up against tough-as-nails Paola! After a pretty intense go of it I finally beat her as I ended up hopping on one leg after her all around the yard!
The grand finale! Teenagers Cristian and Derbin went at it for several minutes while the spectators looked on!
Who likes watermelon?! Did I mention that you can’t use your hands? Eat up, boys!
One of the last games was one I invented right on the spot, and it turned out to be a riot! I warned the kids that they would be participating in the world debut of a new game…They had to crawl on all fours with a spoon in their mouth before reaching bowls of shortening (like Crisco) and flour on the ground. They then had to fill the spoon with one of the ingredients before crawling to their teammate at the other end of the yard to start spreading the delicious ingredients all over their face. The object of the game? Who knows, but it was really funny to watch!
Watch out, kids! Here comes Darwin with a huge spoonful of flour! Run and hide!
Hey! I told them to just put the Crisco on their victims’ — er, I mean teammates’ — face! Poor Josue was covered from head to toe! (And poor Darwin and I who had to bathe him and Gaby afterwards! The real prize awaited me the next day when I went to wash his clothes — and we don’t have a washing machine!)
Now it’s Reina’s turn! You go, girl!
Yup! We successfully finished the game! How do I know? Because all the Crisco and flour were emptied from the bowls and applied successfully to the kids (and Darwin, far left)! This is a game everybody can win, right?
Our 16-year-old daughter Dayana (middle, red shirt) was not too happy with me because it took her lightyears to pick all the Crisco and flour — which turned into a dreadlock-like substance — from her very thick, curly hair! Needless to say, I don’t think she’ll be requesting the game at her next birthday party!
And, last but not least, at the end of the day-long event, our 8-year-old special-needs son Josue followed me into the kitchen where I snapped this priceless shot of him. It is my new favorite picture: every mother’s worst nightmare! He looks like a naughty little guy who’ll get into anything when momma’s not looking (which is actually quite true)!
As I drove down the bumpy gravel road in our old pickup truck, endless pineapple fields stretching out on either side of the dusty strip, I began to pray, for I knew if I didn’t my mind would immediately race to the task of worrying and jumping to conclusions, which I am learning brings no positive result in addition to going against God’s will for His children.
After all, the shiny new silver truck with a neat government logo pasted on the outside was following me. Today was the official visit the Honduran government’s child protective service would make to two of our daughters’ biological family’s household to determine whether the house and its members were apt to receive our girls, who have been living under our protection since July 2015. We had never done any kind of investigational visit like this before, and I knew that when dealing with the Honduran government I had to hide my own emotions and play by certain rules if I wanted to preserve the good standing we have thus far enjoyed with them.
I breathed deeply, trying to keep my thoughts neutral and my heart fixed on the perfect peace that is available to us at all times through Christ Jesus. I whispered, alone in the car, as I journeyed farther and farther into the middle of nowhere, guiding the large vehicle behind me: “Lord, if it is Your plan and Your desire that the girls return to their biological family, I pray that You would make that very clear to all involved. Convince the government social worker and grant Darwin and me peace in our heart about the decision.” Because, Lord knows, at that point neither Darwin nor I had peace about one or both of our girls leaving the protection of our home to return to what we perceived to be a highly unstable, dangerous situation with their biological family. We were only realizing the legal investigations because Josselyn was pushing hard to do so, and it was our duty in the eyes of the law to reunite our girls with their family if at all possible.
After several weeks of phone calls, emails and visits to the little building that manages all of the cases for local abandoned, abused and orphaned children (which there are too many of) in attempts to organize this visit – a grasping at some kind of closure, some kind of answer for our 12-year-old Josselyn and for us to know what direction to head in during this new season — the day had finally arrived. Pint-sized Josselyn with her shaggy black hair had her heart set on moving back in with her biological family members after having gotten in touch with them on a chance encounter downtown a couple months ago, and today we would most likely receive our answer.
I continued onward as I started to doubt that I even remembered where the house was located. In Honduras there are no street signs (or street names), and on this long, dusty stretch everything looked about the same to me. I continued praying: “Lord, on the contrary, if it is not Your will that our girls go back to their family, convince the social worker of that, and grant Josselyn peace in her heart when we have to tell her the news. Whichever way this all goes, I ask that Your peace reign over the situation and over our hearts. May Your will be done; not ours. Show us all the way, and give us the grace and strength to walk in it.”
Several minutes later I spotted the only landmark I remembered from the prior visit I had made to the home – a small tin overhang above the front gate, a twine-and-twig contraption that could not effectively keep anyone in or out. I pulled to a stop, and the large government vehicle behind me followed suit.
Within moments I led the social worker, a very kind local Christian woman whom we don’t yet have much experience with, and the car’s driver down a narrow dirt path and crossed the threshold into our girls’ grandparents’ very simple home. Their small dirt backyard gave way to an endless sea of pineapple fields.
The girls’ grandmother, an extremely frail but alert woman, immediately received us with a hug and the customary kiss on the cheek, eagerly pulling out two plastic chairs to accommodate us in their otherwise totally bare living room. We sat down, me with a smile on my face and my lips sealed firmly shut. This very official visit was technically to be had between the social worker and the family; I was lucky to be present and knew my role was not to be an active one. Despite having been the day-to-day hands-on mom, counselor and teacher for the girls for nearly the last two years, the government sees Darwin and I – and others in our area who serve God in similar capacities – as nothing more than an emergency, short-term shelter rather than a living, breathing family – the very hands and feet of God to rescue those who are so close to the flames! – so the social worker looked to Grandma to get all the details straight rather than to Darwin and I.
Thus the interview process started with several straggling aunts, uncles and cousins of all ages quietly gathering around the open windows and doors to observe the conversation at hand.
The social worker, very eager to reunite lost children with their families (which in theory sounds excellent), began discussing with Grandma the logistics of placing both of her long-lost granddaughters under her legal care. I kept my tongue firmly placed between my teeth, intent on saying nothing. It was clear to me that Grandma and the social worker did not know – or did not want to tell – the whole story, and they had not invited me to speak, so I did not.
The social worker took out a very formal stapled questionnaire that she began filling out as Grandma began answering her questions. One of the first was: “How many people live in your home?”
It seemed simple enough; in the quietness of my own mind I had assumed that Grandma and Grandpa lived alone. There always seemed to be a whole lot of family members everywhere, but I had guessed that they all lived close by and simply enjoyed spending time together during daytime hours, seeing as no one had a stable job and none of the children were in school. Lots of free, idle time; thus, let’s spend it together.
After the social worker’s question, there was an odd pause. Grandma glanced over at her husband, and it became clear that neither of them knew the answer. They sent one of the young aunts to take a head count, and she came back a few minutes later with the answer: “17.”
The social worker’s eyes grew wide as she glanced in surprise at the lines her paper permitted her for that section: there were only ten spaces. She began asking one-by-one the names of all who lived there, ages, genders, etc, as she had to turn her page over and extend the section in her own freehand on the back of the sheet.
Grandma, oftentimes contradicting herself and having to consult constantly with other relatives as to the names, ages, and current whereabouts of those who live under her roof – a three-bedroom, one bath house – began naming several sons and grandsons of hers in their teens and twenties who live and sleep under her roof. I bit down even harder on my tongue as dark images darted across my mind, knowing full well that both of our girls had been severely sexually abused by their very own family members.
During our first supervised family visit several weeks ago, Josselyn later told one of our older daughters that I had had a lengthy conversation with one of her uncles who had raped her, and that ‘everything seemed okay now’ because I had had a pleasant conversation with him – completely unbeknownst to me that he had been one of the perpetrators – and that she would be fine living with him because he had treated me nicely and I got along well with him.
Roughly ten teenage and young adult men – none of whom study or have stable jobs and who have a known history of sexually abusing children – living and sleeping alongside of our two girls in a tiny house that holds only two or three beds? Over my dead body. Righteous anger was quickly awakened within me, but I still said nothing.
The social worker began asking about the girls’ future education, if and when they move back in. Grandma was very hesitant about this, as absolutely none of her dozens of grandchildren are in school, and all of the adults are illiterate. They move frequently and have no stable employment and, although they can afford sodas and candies and cell phones (as so many poor Honduran families do), they have no money for the kids’ education.
At some point during the conversation Grandma mentioned that the girls’ biological mom – whom many family members have told us is highly emotionally unstable and became irate when she heard the news that her daughters visited several weeks ago, thinking that we were going to leave them with her – was ‘out’ with Papo, the infamous stepfather who developed the habit of raping our daughter Gabriela while she lived under his care.
At the mention on his name, I couldn’t take it any longer – even though I had written and submitted official reports to the local government office regarding the nature of our girls’ sexual abuse (there was even a police raid to Papo’s home at the time of Gabriela’s rescue in order to put him behind bars, but he escaped the raid and the police have made no further attempt to pursue him), it was clear that the social worker had no idea who we were dealing with. She continued inquiring calmly about the mom and step-dad, when I very carefully raised a finger and asked if I could speak.
My plastic chair positioned carefully in a triangular position between the other two chairs – my attempt to show my support and collaboration with both parties equally – I spoke up, my voice quivering slightly with rage, “That man – the girls’ stepdad – is the same one who sexually abused Gabriela. I absolutely do not feel right about having her return to live anywhere in proximity to that man – “
The social worker’s eyes grew wide once more as she glanced over at Grandma to clear up the issue. Grandma, possibly wanting to defend her family members or her own integrity or simply unversed on the real issue at hand, began claiming that Gabriela was crazy and that it was all a lie. Gaby was fine and had never been abused. She always used to say bad words and take her clothes off in Grandma’s house, but Grandma knew that she did so because she was crazy.
I spoke up again, this time without asking permission, still trying to keep my voice calm while I was not at all pleased with the idea that we had such a cloud of witnesses around us, eavesdropping on such a delicate issue: “When Gaby first moved in with us roughly two years ago she constantly took her clothes off in public, tried to have sexual relations with any boy or man who was close to her, screamed and talked loudly about Papo – her stepdad – saying that she was gonna put him in jail, and her own sister affirms that Papo had taken Gabriela as his young lover from a very early age on. Her mind and body had been damaged to such an extent that she had become borderline special-needs, oftentimes struggling with self-loathing, learning disabilities and constant disciplinary issues, and the recovery process has been grueling.” (She was about seven or eight years old when she was rescued out of that situation, and we have no idea of knowing for how many years he had been mistreating her prior to that.)
I was desperate to tell the truth while not openly offending this very poor, fragile family. All the people around us had been created in God’s image just as much as I had been, and Jesus’ life, death and resurrection had paid the price of their redemption. God truly loves these people – even the abusers – and desires for them to be saved and renewed. I could not judge these people nor look down upon them, but I could do whatever was necessary to assure that these two girls did not fall back into a very dark pit. Lord, forgive me if I am over-stepping my bounds.
I had put my cards quite strongly on the table, and I had put myself at risk of being called biased or even possibly against the family reintegration process (which is a cardinal sin in Honduras). The social worker, obviously alarmed by all the information I was sharing (even though I had shared it with her and her colleagues before, possibly having fallen on deaf ears until now), began probing Grandma on the topic as she continued denying the whole thing as the list of lies and excuses lengthened.
As the conversation continued onward amiably but very professionally, the social worker jotting down all of her official notes, someone suddenly appeared in the doorway and I felt what little air I had in my lungs jump right out.
Everything around me disappeared as my eyes locked in on her extremely small frame and shaved head. She was even wearing a white dress, which was actually just a shirt that reached her waist. She wore no pants; little undies and a white shirt were all. Her eyes seemed glazed over and travelled up and across the walls.
The dialogue between the social worker and Grandma continued onward as I suddenly felt lost in space. None of the other ten or fifteen family members present even noticed her arrival. She was like a small, almost unconscious ghost. Frail and broken – probably much tinier than whatever her real age was – and with a shaved head and white dress.
I let out a slight gasp, my whole body being slammed with very strong memories of the other little angel in the white dress as I glanced over at a teen male who stood a few feet from me. I pointed a finger at the little girl and asked with deep respect and awe, “That is Katy, isn’t it?”
He affirmed casually that, yes, that was Katy. I continued staring at her – looking past Grandma to that little, lost figure with the shaved head who stood idly near her chair, eyes still glazed over and far, far away.
I spoke again without permission, this time to no one in particular, “That is Josselyn and Gabriela’s little sister. Katy.”
Oh, I knew her when I saw her because that is exactly how our Gabriela arrived under our care in 2015: shaved head riddled with scars and open wounds; lost, far-off look in the eyes; strikingly similar facial features; extremely small frame; she was even wearing a white dress the day we met her.
I felt an immediate connection with that little girl that goes beyond explanation. I felt that I knew her already; I even felt that she was Gabriela herself two years ago. I stared at her little bitty legs that led up to her underwear in plain sight and her white, nearly see-through shirt that fell slightly off one shoulder. I tried to make eye contact with her several times, but her glossed-over stare seemed to look right past me. Only a couple times did her eyes actually find mine as a very quick, very tiny smile tugged at one side of her tired cheeks before the glossy stare overtook her again. After standing idly in the doorway for what seemed an eternity, she then began hobbling over toward the adjacent room. A family member who was not present at that moment had commented to me on a prior visit that she had just begun walking recently due to severe malnutrition. Exactly like Gaby.
I do not remember the specifics of the rest of the conversation; just that I got up from my seat and sat down on the concrete floor right next to Katy and began stroking her arm and back, as I would with any of our kids. I felt that she was mine even though she had no idea who I was. Her eyes never met mine, and even the loving physical touch could not snap her out of her zombie-like state. I patted my lap and asked if she wanted to sit with me, but she neither looked at me nor responded.
At one point Grandma glanced over at me, visibly confused as I no longer displayed my happy, neutral smile. My countenance had grown dark and I silently fought back an onslaught of tears and rage.
The visit was concluded with cordial hugs, handshakes and on-the-cheek customary kisses, and we soon began walking back to the main road where our vehicles awaited us.
Once we were out of the family’s earshot, I dared to ask the social worker, “What were your thoughts on the visit?”
She looked at me, raised her eyebrows and commented very sincerely, “It seems to me that they don’t always tell the truth.”
I let out a long, unexpected sigh and dared to probe further, knowing I was trodding on fragile ground: “In your opinion, do you think that it will be best for the girls to return to their family?”
Just weeks prior when I met with the same social worker to inform her of the family’s whereabouts and of Josselyn’s desire to move back in with them, her immediate, upbeat response was, “Great! It’s always better for kids to be with their family.”
This time, however – having seen first-hand the situation in which one or both of the girls would be diving into – she responded without wasting a beat, “No way. The girls would be entering a situation of sexual abuse upon returning to their home. Plus none of the kids who live with Grandma are in school and they move so frequently that we would lose all follow-up with them. I will file the report, but in my opinion, they shouldn’t go back there.”
I let out a slight laugh of pure glee as it dawned on me that God had granted my humble request and thus confirmed His will for our girls. He opened the social worker’s eyes to the real situation at hand, helped her to detect the many lies, and convinced her that our girls should not return there. Now the only thing left (and perhaps most difficult of all), would be sharing the news with Josselyn, who had so longed to return to what she had convinced herself was the ideal life.
Feeling compelled by God to speak out about Katy’s situation, I shared with the social worker my concern for the little girl. She looked exactly as Gaby did upon arrival to our home, and I feared the worst: now that abusive step-dad Papo no longer has access to Gaby, he has probably begun abusing little Katy in the same way. The social worker seemed to understand (there are so many cases such as these that the elements of surprise and rage oftentimes don’t even come into play for those who work daily in this sphere), and I affirmed to her that if and when the government should remove her from the familial situation, we would be more than willing to accept her.
On the car ride home I prayed fervently for Josselyn – that God would console her heart upon receiving the news that she would not be able to return to her family, and that He would grant her His perfect peace to understand why. Upon arriving home I spoke with Darwin – who had been teaching classes all morning – to inform him of the news, and I wept in his presence of my encounter with Katy.
About an hour later we arranged to talk in private with Josselyn. Darwin prayed as the three of us – Darwin, Josselyn and I – held hands with heads bowed in one of our empty classrooms, the teachers and students having already returned home for the evening. By God’s grace we were able to share the news well, and although silent tears rolled down Josselyn’s dark cheeks, she did not turn violent or seem carried toward total despair. We continued talking and praying with her afterward and embraced her in a ‘sandwich hug,’ something we do with all of our kids (Darwin on one side and me on the other, both of us embracing the little person who stands between us.) We had — have — no other choice but to throw ourselves at God’s feet, asking for mercy and for His perfect peace in the face of what could possibly turn into total depression and despair for His daughter Josselyn.
Darwin then left to tend to the rest of our kids as the open conversation – by this time not so heavy – continued between Josselyn and I for quite some time. I then carefully asked Josselyn’s permission to share the news with the rest of our kids, seeing as they all knew about that day’s official visit and were eager to know the result. She consented, saying that it was okay for us to talk about it with the rest of our household but that she preferred not to be present. I agreed, and she went out front with little Gaby to play ball and climb the mango tree with a few young neighbors.
The news was shared with our other six kids – even the news of my experience meeting little Katy – and 16-year-old Dayana, our eldest, was the first to suggest that Katy should come live under our protection. 13-year-old Jackeline was rightfully enraged and surprised that the police had not put step-dad Papo behind bars (even though we had previously shared this information with our children), and a very heavy but peaceful solemnity came over the room where we prayed over and discussed with our children serious details and realities that are far from most households. We reiterated the utter importance of maintaining all forms of sexual abuse and misconduct far from our household; we affirmed our love and commitment to each of our kids; we spoke tenderly of the need to have compassion and patience for Josselyn during this time. As we left the meeting, I was certain God met us there as He had also that morning in the official visit and earlier that afternoon when we spoke with Josselyn.
Later that evening, I found Dayana playing piano and gave her a long hug followed by a kiss on the top of the head as I told her how amazed I was with the heart – the compassion – God was forming in her. The suggestion she had made during the earlier family meeting to receive Katy into our home was nothing short of a miracle, for we all know the extreme adjustments, sacrifices and general household instability that follow the addition of any new child. Surely God was granting Dayana His own heart for those on the margins; surely He was transforming her into a daughter of the King.
That night as everyone was quietly tucked into their bedrooms for our family’s daily Sabbath Hour, Darwin and I arrived at Josselyn and Gaby’s quarters and asked to come in. As we passed through their floral-print door curtain, we found both sisters quietly sitting on their tile floor, working on homework and puzzles. We sat down with them as we informed little Gaby that I had had the privilege of meeting her sister Katy that morning, and that Katy reminded me a lot of Gaby. Her eyes grew wide at the sound of her sister’s name, and I smiled at her and told her that Darwin and I would like to pray with them for Katy.
The sisters’ hands instinctively extended towards ours as the four of us formed an imperfect circle on their tile floor. We prayed for Katy, asking God’s protection over her life and that He would indicate to us what we are to do in this situation. As we finished praying, we embraced each of the sisters and gave them a kiss on the top of their head as we then left their room for the night.
That was Wednesday, two days ago. Please pray with us, both for Josselyn’s continued acceptance and peace with the fact that she will not legally be able to return to her family’s care along with Katy’s very delicate situation, knowing that multitudes of other boys and girls around the globe also silently face sexual abuse day after day. Pray that the local authorities would move to investigate Katy’s living situation and that, if it is God’s will, she would come to our home to be raised in a God-fearing way along with her sisters.
On the evening of the day that all of the events in this blog occurred, after having sat down with Josselyn to tell her the news that she would not be able to return to her biological family’s care, Darwin spent some time playing with our girls and taking pictures of them out in our front lawn.
Amen. To God be the glory, for He hears us and comes to our encounter.
In a prior update I sought prayer for our little Gabriela who has been living with us almost two years now. Surprisingly, we found a biological family member of hers in a nearby city several weeks ago (the first contact we have had with any family member since she and her sister moved in with us in July 2015). We got their cellphone number and have since realized two structured family visits for Gabriela and her older sister Josselyn. The family visits have helped to fill in many of the gaps in the girls’ fragmented history, and one of those is their ages. Although the majority of their family members are illiterate and do not have a very accurate concept of time, dates, etc, several of them affirmed that Gabriela is roughly 10 years old and Josselyn 12. We continue to parent, love and guide them day after day in this new stage of monthly family visits and increased contact with their past, and due to Josselyn’s insistence we are doing the legal investigations to see if one or both of the girls can return to their biological family’s home, most likely with their grandparents. This is a very delicate process for all of us, as Josselyn is currently feeling a very strong pull to return to her familial roots and daily experiences pretty dramatic mood swings as she has even escaped twice from our home in recent weeks. We are approaching the possibility of her living with her biological family with an open mind and much prayer, but both girls arrived at our home in terrible shape in 2015 and had experienced much abuse and neglect at the hands of certain relatives, so we do not yet have peace about them returning to such an unstable situation despite Josselyn’s adamancy. Please pray with us for our two girls during this time, as the government will have the final say on where the girls will live. This week I am scheduled to accompany a government social worker to the girls’ grandparents’ home as part of the reintegration investigation. Please pray for peace over our household as well, as Josselyn is quite unstable emotionally, and that affects everyone in our family. Please continue to pray with us for both girls — for their healing, relationship with the Lord, future, etc — as any child who has been separated from their biological family struggles with great insecurities and doubts as to why they do not live with their family in addition to periods of very intense emotional angst. Pray that Father God would bless them both with wisdom to understand their past, gratitude towards Him for where they are in the present, and great faith in God as to their future. In particular, pray that God would illuminate Josselyn’s mind with the truth (as we feel that she is currently very confused), and that wherever she ends up she would continue to seek, love and obey Him. The attachment process when a new child/teen arrives in our family (and then the detachment process if/when they leave) is extremely taxing on Darwin’s and my emotions, and we currently feel very stretched thin emotionally. We appreciate your honest prayers.
This is our 13-year-old daughter Jackeline, the proud new cow-owner I wrote about on last month’s general update blog. Her young female calf has grown considerably since the taking of this photo, and Jackeline goes out to the stable to take care of her, give her salt and garlic (to relieve her of internal parasites, etc) several times per week. We are very encouraged about the opportunities this growing calf might provide Jackeline in the future and pray that any financial gain she might provide would be used to glorify God and serve others.
Erick’s Young Men’s Retreat and Running Group
Earlier this month during ‘Holy Week’ (the week in Latin American culture leading up to Easter Sunday) Erick and Darwin organized a camping retreat for about a dozen young men, the majority of whom are in our school and others of which weekly attend the Bible study that Erick and his wife host in their home on Wednesday evenings. They all threw on their backpacks and headed up a remote path into the dense jungle behind our home to enjoy a campfire, sharing of stories and testimonies, several Bible studies, etc. For the majority of the young men, it was the first time they had ever done anything like that. We are excited about and blessed by the wisdom, energy, and sacrificial attitude that Erick and his family bring to this ministry in rural Honduras, as he is actively investing in and guiding many teenage boys during his free time and during vacations. He has also since formed a running group with the same young men as he is training with them several times per week to run in a 10K in a nearby city next month. Not only Erick but all of the Christian laborers the Lord has placed alongside of us this year are taking great initiative to form relationships with and disciple the many youth in our homeschool-style school, both during ‘work’ hours and on nights/weekends. This is awesome!
Everybody hold your machete up! This photo was taken of Erick and Darwin’s group of ‘wild men’ when they came back from their overnight campout in the mountains. Two of our sons (Brayan, age 15, and Jason, age 9) participated in the event. Our 8-year-old son Josue stayed at home to protect the women!
Greater Organization Achieved in 2017
Although this may not be a particularly striking headline report to make, we are very excited about the organization, communication and daily structure we’ve been able to establish this year. During the first three years of this ministry (2013-2015), we oftentimes felt like our lips were flapping violently in the breeze and our hair was flying all over the place as the learning curve is pretty drastic for learning how to parent hurting children/teens, establish and grow a ministry from scratch, utilize and protect a rural 17-acre property in the middle of one of the world’s most dangerous countries, etc. Last year we had many breakthroughs as we opened our previously itty-bitty homeschool program to dozens of local youth through the creation of our discipleship-based high school, twice-weekly Bible study and prayer groups, Christian Leadership class, etc, although we still had many kinks to work out as we had been thrown into an entirely new arena. Now that we have more experience under our belts (and hopefully wisdom gained both through the ups and downs we’ve personally gone through in addition to increased and ongoing reading of Scripture, etc), this calendar year we are all taking a collective sigh of relief and gratitude as things are marching along without so many hiccups. This year we are serving more people than ever before, and with much less stress! Knowing how to manage a kitchen where about 50 people eat on any given day – calculating how many and which groceries to buy, how to keep the kitchen clean (and who cleans it on what day, and then making sure that person actually cleans it!), etc – is not something that comes in the owner’s manual, but by God’s grace this year things are running more smoothly and the overall organization of the property and its buildings (not just the kitchen) has improved drastically. Setting appropriate limits both with the surrounding community and with those within our household; discerning and then communicating the specific vision/mission the Lord is giving us; establishing and managing our kids’ and laborers’ many schedules/responsibilities; learning how to keep our guard dogs alive; discerning the next step in any new situation and taking it, etc, has been the ongoing task during these first few years of laboring under God’s grace and for His glory. Through many people’s generosity we’ve also been able to purchase a printer for our office (before we used to have to run to town every time we needed to print something!) and we’re in the final stages of finishing a large swing-set/play structure for our yard. Join us in thanking God for these advancements – some big, others very small – as we are daily learning how to be the best possible stewards of all that has been placed under our care. Yes!
This is the homeschool-style support group I teach in our dining room every Tuesday afternoon with a small group of some of our most marginalized students. Josue, our 8-year-old specials needs son (the one in the orange shirt looking at the camera), is my ‘assistant’ — he helps me encourage and supervise the other students, hand out the snack (and eat the snack), etc. We have seen great progress in this group of students since they joined us in January of this year, and many are actively seeking God’s will for their lives. Josue, who cannot learn in a normal classroom environment, also feels very important as my ‘assistant,’ which is a good niche for him to have. He is my right-hand man in my advanced math class as well, and he helps Darwin in the many classes he teaches.
In my Tuesday afternoon support group we work a lot with open-ended art projects, team-building activities and Biblical study as we seek to ‘wake up’ and develop youth who have largely been left to their own devices since early childhood. Many of our students have spent years of their life out of school only to run wild around our rural neighborhood or wander aimlessly, so activities such as art, music, healthy physical touch, etc along with Biblical direction are crucial to cultivating their minds and lives for Christ.
These are two of our older teen boys who are new to our school this year. We are very proud of the decisions they are making and their sincerity of faith as they are coming to put their lives in align with God’s will. Their decision to study in our program and participate in the many additional faith-building activities we offer (such as the boys’ campout, Erick’s in-home Bible study, etc) is very countercultural for young men their age. Please pray with us for them, that God would fully transform their lives and build them into Christ-centered leaders (servants) to their generation.
Seeking Prayer for Sandra, Who Left Our Home
Sandra, a 16-year-old local teen who has sought refuge in our home on-and-off over the past year-and-a-half, recently decided to move out of our home. Ever since her escape from her mother’s house a couple months ago, she has been actively engaged in many occult activities that go directly in contrast with God’s will for her life. Several weeks ago Darwin and I sat down with Sandra and her mother (a very devout, humble Christian who works with us part-time) to try to get to the root of Sandra’s sporadic behavior, and she told us that she no longer desired to live with us nor study in our school. She has since moved out and we have lost all contact with her, as she is living in her mother’s home but not under her mother’s authority. We are deeply saddened by the very dangerous choices she is currently making, but we feel absolute certainty that God has called us to release her (as in, no longer worry about her nor try to ‘rescue’ her from her own poor decisions). Prior to her moving out we had invested much individualized prayer, conversations, etc, into her life as we sought to be faithful channels of God’s grace to her, but she ultimately made her decision and will pay the consequences. Although Darwin and I along with our kids are in absolute peace with all that we’ve done, said, given, etc in regards to our relationship with her, we do seek prayer on her behalf and that of her mom, who is daily faced with a very rebellious daughter who has placed herself near many dangers. We long for Sandra to return to God in repentance, as she confessed faith in Christ last year and was publicly baptized, thus making a lifelong commitment with God. Thank you for your prayers.
Here is a photo of Domingo, a local pastor/carpenter and one of the Christian laborers the Lord has placed alongside of us, and his eldest son in the beginning stages of putting the large play structure together. We designed it from scratch several months ago, and we are very excited that within the week this ‘dream’ will become a reality for the many youth who spend their days at the Living Waters Ranch.
Praising God: Protection from Danger
We praise and thank God that roughly a year and a half has passed since the last burglary on our property. Although those within our walls (students and our children) oftentimes struggle with stealing money or small items from our office or backpacks, we are very happy that the issue we had experienced in 2013-2015 of late-night unknown neighbors stealing chicken, electric generators, cutting through fences, etc, has since ceased. Our night watchman — who does his rounds with nothing more than a flashlight — has been doing a very diligent job each night, and he and his family will soon be celebrating two years of living on our property with us. Five of their children are in our school, and we enjoy a very positive relationship with them. Please continue to pray for us in regard to the general issue of security, as Honduras is a very dangerous country. We thank God for His protection — over our lives and our property — that He has granted us, and we humbly ask that you might pray with us so that this divine protection against evil might continue. Praise be to God!
This is Reina, one of our faithful Christian laborers in her 50s whom God is utilizing (and at the same time transforming!) at the Living Waters Ranch, supporting a group of young girls during a Bible-study activity we held during Holy Week for our students who were on vacation from their normal classes with us.
Earlier this afternoon around 3:30pm as all of our daily classes were letting out and teachers and students were heading home, our 12-year-old daughter Gleny approached me with a rather solemn countenance and responded to my hug with sagging shoulders: “Mom, can I talk to you in private about something that happened today?”
I breathed deeply, as I was sure whatever news she was going to share with me wasn’t positive. A key that my husband and I are learning as we share our lives alongside of very broken and hurting people is how to actively and sacrificially love them without getting ‘infected’ by their sin, pessimism, complaints, etc. Centering myself before God’s presence, asking for His unfailing peace and joy even in the midst of whatever she was about to share, I answered cheerfully, “Sure. Just let me go grab my things.”
I headed to our dining room to grab my keys and teaching supplies, as I had just finished leading a dynamic homeschool-style support class for a group of 12 of our students who come from more marginalized backgrounds whom I meet with every Tuesday afternoon. We had read together several chapters of the book of John; we had done several silly, team-building activities out on the lawn; I had shared a snack and story-time with them; we finished with an open-ended art project using oil pastels. It had been a blessed time as both I and my students weekly look forward to our time together, and I immediately rejected the thought that Gleny’s Debby-downer attitude would put a damper on all the positive work that God had done that day.
As Gleny and I passed into the bedroom my husband and I share, I breathed deeply again, and internally braced myself for anything. In these Mom-can-I-talk-with-you-in-private chats that we’ve had on numerous occasions with all of our kids, the spectrum of topics that they approach us about ranges from entirely innocent to utterly tragic. Just the night prior we had had several of these types of conversations back-to-back with our teen girls as a couple startling situations were brought into the light and carefully dealt with.
I sat on the floor, waiting for her to join me. From her dull countenance came the words: “Can I close the door?”
“Of course.” Okay. I breathed even deeper. Whatever she was about to share was gonna be really private.
She stood several feet from me, refusing to sit down. She began defensively: “Something happened that I really didn’t like.”
Of course. I nodded and allowed her to continue. “Today in agriculture class Brayan was bothering me, saying that I like this certain boy.”
I thanked God in my heart that this was the ‘big deal.’ This sort of ‘bad day’ we can deal with without much sweat; it is much more taxing when our kids come to us to share inside knowledge of a robbery, group lie or scandal, etc, that other siblings have participated in.
Brayan, our 15-year-old son who is a bit immature for his age, had pushed Gleny’s buttons. That I could deal with easy enough. Thank you, God.
She continued, very upset and close to tears. “I mean, several of my classmates bother me about this, saying that I like this boy. And I don’t! I just…I just wanted to grab a rock and throw it at him, but I decided not to…”
I spoke up for the first time, wanting to show her that I was with and for her: “I’m so glad you didn’t. That’s great self-control, sweetheart.”
She nearly cut me off as she apparently had not finished her statement, “…because I didn’t want the rock to hit the teacher.”
I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, “Oh.”
That led to a nearly hour-long conversation between my Wild Gleny and me as I gave her my honest perspective: I could and would talk with Brayan about not teasing her, but even so that would not guarantee that he (and not to mention all the other students who don’t live in our household) would entirely leave her alone forever. The task at hand was that of learning how to deal with jokes, teasing and bullying in a God-honoring, healthy way. After all, I reminded Gleny of something that she already knew: we cannot control others; we can only control ourselves. That is the power that God has given us and that we will ultimately have to give an account for.
Several minutes into our conversation she warmed up a bit and came and sat down on the tile floor next to me as I put my arm around her.
Gleny came to us as a scared, aggressive 9-year-old in a very tiny, malnourished body. Her previously toothy, wide-gapped smile has since grown into a beautiful, brilliant smile that can light up a whole room. She was the first of our kids to start calling me ‘Mom,’ and she accepted Jesus early on in her time in our household and was baptized publicly last year. God’s work in her life is clearly evident as her extreme outbursts and fits of rage used to occur several times daily, and God has since been softening her heart and teaching her how to love and respond peacefully. Even so, she still struggles mightily with jealously, with being one of the younger siblings, and with a general emotional immaturity that frequently leads her to react with tears or harsh words when she feels she’s in a tough situation.
And so I began giving her some great ideas. “Gleny, when Brayan – or whoever else – comes at you, taunting and embarrassing you by saying that you like a certain boy, the first thing you need to do is control your face.” I showed her a very happy, eyebrows-high face. She immediately covered her face and giggled. I looked ridiculous.
“If people tease you and your face immediately turns into the one that you were showing me when we first came in this room to talk, everyone will know that they can push your buttons. It’s too easy. People who are out to tease are looking for a reaction; they want to make you mad or sad. So don’t let them. You know that God desires us to be joyful and at peace all the time, so the task at hand is to not allow others to rob the joy that Christ gives you. Just because someone teases or pokes fun at you doesn’t mean that you have to fall into a well of sadness or suddenly get angry and start throwing rocks. God desires for your joy to be permanent, for the peace He gives us to be unwavering despite what other people may do or say.”
“So first, your face.” I again flashed an extremely happy, silly face at her, and we both laughed.
“Mom! Stop it! When you look like that it makes me laugh!”
“That’s the point. If you can show this face – “ and I did the really happy face again “ – to those who are trying to push your buttons, by the end of it both you and them are gonna be laughing. But if you show the sad or mad face, they’ll keep going because they’ll know they’ve got you. You’ve lost your peace and joy.”
I kept going. “And that’s like a shield that God gives you – the shield of faith, to protect the joy and peace that He’s put in us. Don’t let people come and take it away from you.”
“Then, with the face, you say something really upbeat like ‘God bless you!’ or ‘Hey, I sure do like you, bro!’ or ‘You’re too funny!’ and then you leave. If the person follows you to try to push your buttons again, you just give another big, happy face and another loving, neutral comment and you walk away again. If you’re still really upset on the inside, then you pray and ask God to protect and restore His peace in your heart.”
I leaned even closer and arched my eyebrows in a juicy secret-telling kind of way. “You wanna know what, Gleny?”
She smiled big, eyes trained on mine, ready for whatever I was about to say.
“I know this works because I do it all the time with you kids.”
She perked up and gasped slightly. “That’s right! You do it a lot with Gaby!”
I nodded and added, “I sure do. And with you. You remember yesterday when you got really mad at me when I asked you to wash your blanket, and I showed you my happy face, gave you a loving comment and left the scene until you calmed down and were ready to talk peacefully?”
The light of understanding dawned across her face. Man, this stuff really does work! This must be Mom’s secret ingredient to not losing her mind in the midst of the daily battlefield.
Minutes later she and I were off hand-in-hand to the kitchen to eat some dinner. We both entered the dining room laughing amongst ourselves as I continued to encourage her to ‘practice the face’ and to have her peaceful, loving one-liners ready for the next time someone insults her. Three of our other daughters – who were busy preparing a cake to take to one of their classes the next day – stared at us oddly, as it was clear to everyone that Gleny and I had some great new inside joke.
A couple minutes passed when Gleny casually mentioned to no one in particular that she was going to begin taking one of the vitamins on our shelf to help with a small eye irritation she was experiencing. This was not a big piece of news to any of us, as we’ve all taken that vitamin from time to time for different minor health issues, so no one said anything. Gleny grabbed the little plastic bottle and turned her back to everyone as she bent over to put it in the fridge.
Standing a few feet away from Gleny, our backs toward one another and several of our other teen girls present, I said very nonchalantly, with only a slight tinge of naughty attitude, “Only fools take that vitamin.”
Suddenly several pairs of eyes were drilling me in shock, and more than one mouth was left dangling wide open. No one could understand why such a negative, critical comment would have come out of my mouth, as Darwin and I are very intentional about the way we speak to one another in our household.
Gleny did a 180 from where she stood bent-over near the fridge, her face displaying utter confusion, convinced she must have heard me wrong: “Wha–?!”
I winked at her and smiled, whispering, “The face. Give me a good face.”
After a couple more moments’ pause, she suddenly burst out in laughter, finally understanding what I was doing: I was training her in the safety of our own relationship how to react to insults with love and grace. I was waiting for her to give me a big, loving face and a positive comment. This training was proving harder for her than she had thought.
Moments later, as Gleny was serving her dinner, she grabbed a can of tuna from our pantry and began pouring a little bit on top of her rice and beans.
I glanced over at her and said with disgust, “Only crazy people eat tuna.”
She snapped her head up at me, eyes wide, and blurted immediately in her own defense, “…No!”
Her eyes searched mine, again not understanding why I had so openly sought to offend her, until she quickly realized that I had just done it again. She threw her head back and laughed out loud and she stomped her feet with glee. We were both rolling with laughter. I flashed her a delightful, slightly crazy face.
Our 13-year-old daughter Jackeline, who is very expressive and hysterical with her general expressions, furrowed her brow in an extreme way, glancing between Gleny and me, and said, “This strange mother-daughter interaction is really creeping me out.”
Our other girls just stared at me, not sure if they were allowed to laugh with us – what would they even be laughing at, anyway? – or if they should feel offended on behalf of Gleny. Afterall, everyone in our family knows not to go around bothering Gleny, because she’s really explosive and gets her feelings hurt really easily. Bad Mom!
Less than a minute later, as the other girls finished pouring the cake batter into the pan, someone mentioned that Jackeline had accidentally left the oven door open, and the cat had jumped in (the oven was not yet turned on). I glanced over and commented, “Oh, I bet it was Gleny who opened the oven. It was her fault.”
Gleny shot a surprised look over at me, her jaw dangling down around her ankles again, and gasped, “Why?!”
This time it only took her a split second to realize what I had done as she and I both burst out into laughter. She was not passing the tests I was sending her! She had yet to give me a happy face and a loving comment!
Jackeline stared at us strangely as she asked, “What on earth is going on between you two?”
Gleny and I just kept laughing hysterically and sending each other really big, happy faces from across the kitchen.
A couple minutes later 16-year-old Dayana, Gleny’s biological sister, began chit-chatting to me about something silly from one of her classes that day, and I gave her a warm hug and mentioned with a slightly negative tone, “Of course you would think that because you’re that weird girl’s older sister.”
Gleny’s eyes shot up to meet mine as she flashed me a huge – brilliant! – sincerely happy face and stuck out an enthusiastic finger: “That’s right!”
She was ready for it this time! She got it! She really got it!
She extended her hand to meet mine in a triumphant high-five as her joy jumped off her and onto everyone in the room, although only she and I knew what was really going on. I had insulted her – called her weird! – and she responded lovingly!
Things calmed down for a few minutes as everyone began eating their dinner until Jackeline came over and mixed the very little English she knows (as in, like one or two words) into an all-Spanish sentence to ask me a question about how long to bake the cake. (In our household we communicate with one another almost exclusively in Spanish although some of our older kids are in beginners-level English classes). Gleny approached me, impressed that Jackeline had tried to put into practice a little bit of English, and said, “Mom! Did you hear what Jackeline said?! She said the first word in English and the rest in Spanish!” I had not even noticed, but Gleny found it very funny.
I saw this as another open door, so I said, “At least she speaks better English than you do.”
Gleny gave me a beautiful, glowing face and smiled big, affirming: “That’s …okay!…that she speaks better English than I do!” Again she gave me a big high-five and an enthusiastic pat on the back. Good girl!
Jackeline just stared at us for a few moments and then rolled her eyes, not quite sure whether to believe the whole love-your-enemies and love-those-who-persecute-you drama that was being played out so vividly around her.
Several times throughout dinner I reached across the table and pulled a small strand of Gleny’s hair and poked annoyingly at her ribs. Each time she responded with a lovely, sincere face, a friendly pat on the shoulder and “Many blessings to you!”
About an hour or so later, the endorphins having died down after our riotous training session, Gleny approached me with a rather dull countenance. Oh, no. “Mom, I don’t want to be in violin anymore.”
I gave her a beautiful, loving, happy face and answered neutrally, “You are my favorite violinist, sweetheart.”
That was not the answer she was looking for. She became visibly agitated and entered into that blessed whine: “Mo-om! Please? Can I drop out of violin?”
Feeling her negativity being rather aggressively thrust onto me, I answered with a smile: “I love you, Gleny. You need to persevere with the violin; your dad and I have already talked with you about this. I’m gonna go take a shower now. Catcha later.”
As I began walking to our bathroom, distancing myself as much as possible from her bad attitude, I heard my name being hurled at my back: “Mo-om!”
At our family’s Sabbath Hour – all of our kids on the cusp of entering their rooms for the night – Gleny dramatically threw herself on me one more time, batting her eyes like an innocent little dove: “Mom! The violin! Please!”
I embraced her closely – fitting her perfectly under my armpit – as I gave her several little kisses on the forehead and affirmed, “You are absolutely the most precious violin player I’ve ever met. Good night.”
I began walking away as she threw herself at me, grabbing my arm in desperation. (I felt as though she would soon be grabbing my ankles as I dragged her across the floor towards my bedroom, but the situation thankfully did not come to that.) In need of loosening her from me, I said with a big, happy face, “Okay…your bedtime will be earlier tomorrow…”
And her eyes grew wide; she released me immediately and disappeared behind the curtain as she entered her bedroom on schedule.
And, about 10 minutes later, the miracle happened. As I sat peacefully at my laptop computer, curled up in a little nook in our bedroom as several candles let off a soft glow and pleasing scent, the fan producing a refreshing breeze as our entire home entered into its nightly rest, I heard a beautiful noise coming from the other end of our cinderblock home. It was a violin. Gleny was practicing.
A few days ago our 13-year-old daughter Jackeline came home in the evening after having spent the day with her 8-year-old special needs brother Josue in a visit with their biological family members. I greeted them warmly at the door as Jackeline then plopped down on our little two-person floral print couch. I instinctively pulled up one of our old wicker stools as I then sat down on it a few feet in front of her. My eyes searched hers as wacky lil’ Josue began trying to do some kind of rear horsey-kick with his stubby hands grabbing the couch’s tired arm while pushing his legs up and back as he bounced about next to the couch.
Jackeline with her wild shoulder-length hair and beautiful round face did not look stressed out or worried, so I dared to ask: “How was the visit?”
That simple question was all it took for us to dive into an hour-plus conversation as she shared with me her many (very insightful) observations on the world outside of our family. (Some of our 8 foster children have regular monthly visits with their biological family members while others have gone years without hearing anything from their relatives.)
She began, voice accelerated as she entered her dramatic story-telling mode, “I asked my little cousin – you know him, the one who’s three years old – if he wanted to play cars.”
I nodded my head and smiled, for Darwin and I have met all of her biological relatives on several occasions and maintain a very positive relationship with them.
“Well, my little cousin said ‘yes’ to my invitation to play cars with him, and then he whipped out two cellphones out of nowhere and said, ‘Which one do you want?’” At this point her eyes are really wide open as she replays the shock she felt when the event happened. I felt like I was right there with her in live action!
I began giggling, and I glanced over and winked at Josue. He flashed me a big, toothy grin. Jackeline continued, “And I said, ‘What?! I asked you if you wanted to play cars with me, like toy cars….Sitting on the ground.’” She motioned with a hand weakened by shock the little back-and-forth movement as she rolled an imaginary toy car in the air.
By then I was really laughing, and she paused to reiterate the whole cellphone part: “I mean, he just whipped out not one, but two of those big fancy cellphones! Two! And he’s only three years old!” I nodded in agreement.
“So when I clarified that I wanted to play toy cars with him on the ground, he shrugged disinterestedly and said, ‘Boring,’ and then showed me the cellphones again, asking me which one I wanted to play on. He told me that he had some electronic app on the phone that was called ‘Cars’ that was more fun than what I had suggested.”
Her way of story-telling – hands moving about animatedly, passion displayed in her fluctuating tone of voice – was both hilarious and effective as she shed a lot of light on the utter absurdities of today’s world culture.
“And, like during the whole visit my little cousin ended up playing on both of the cellphones all by himself, and the television was on all the time! It was like…chaos. At one point he told me that he didn’t like one of the cellphones because it wasn’t as advanced as the other one, so he was going to give it to Charlie!”
I tilted my head, slightly confused because I had never heard mention of Charlie. She was quick to clarify: “That’s the cat!”
She looked genuinely worried. Josue continued grinning and nodding enthusiastically as if he understood and agreed with the entire social commentary. I rejoiced in my heart that God is developing in Jackeline a very effective ‘truth filter’ – the ability to observe and even be immersed in what many people consider to be ‘normal’ while evaluating it from the perspective of God’s eternal Word. In effect, to be in the world but not of it.
I treasured this moment in my heart, for our precious – wild, at times immature, strikingly wise! – Jackeline, by God’s grace, is developing the ability to discern her surroundings. She will desperately need that ability, especially when she leaves our home and protection one day to enter the adult realm. In a wildly confused world that is quickly accepting all forms of sexual sin as ‘normal’ (in addition to rampant materialism, a very isolated ‘individualism’, political corruption, etc), she is going to desperately need to be able to discern what is of God and what is not if she is to walk closely by His side in the world’s wild maze of infinite options and endless ‘ways.’
While I ruminated on all this, thanking God in my heart for the firm character and wise discernment He is forming in His daughter, she continued: “And then my grandma began telling me that it is really important for me to get a tablet and learn how to use it.”
I felt uneasy at the idea; she continued, laughing as she pointed at my reaction: “I told my grandma, ‘I don’t think my parents are gonna like that idea!’, but she said that it’s important because in daily life everyone uses one.”
At that we both began laughing, because although Darwin and I have never spoken openly against modern technological advancements, all of our kids can observe clearly that we are not addicted to them (nor do we own many of them). In our daily life we read books (those old kind made from trees); we enjoy the creativity God has given us to roll up our sleeves and do art projects; we teach classes and Bible studies in bare rooms on wooden benches; we use our hands (and sweat glands) to work around the house and yard; we dedicate ourselves to the ongoing task of developing the minds God has entrusted us; we spend ourselves joyfully on the task of binding up the brokenhearted and setting the captive free; we worship God through music; we care diligently for the various animals God has placed on our property. In a large sense, we are ‘unplugged.’
Jackeline continued, fully enjoying the process of story-telling, “And I said, ‘Grandma! But my parents are adults, and they don’t use a tablet in everyday life!’ And with that, my grandma was really surprised and asked how that was possible. I said, ‘Well, they only use their computers for like really extreme jobs, and they have no use for a calculator because they do the math in their heads!’” At that point I was rolling with laughter, and Josue continued glancing energetically between his older sister and I, eager to participate in the joy. “My grandma was shocked and had no reply! She had never heard of such a thing!”
You see, in our home my husband (who is Honduran) and I (who was born in America) have put a ‘stop’ to the endless advancements in technology and luxury that many in the world constantly chase after. We choose not to have hot water or air-conditioning; we all wash our clothes by hand; we have no television. Our kids do not have internet access; my cell phone is a little black apparatus with an itty bitty screen and old school keypad that probably made its world debut when your great-grandmother was in kindergarten. It doesn’t have any apps and can’t even take pictures. I’ve had my cellphone so many years that the part that sends text messages no longer even works. It’s only used for…*gasp*…making calls! People constantly ask me if I have ‘Whatsapp,’ and I finally had to confess the other day, “No; I don’t have ‘Whatsapp, and to be honest with you, I don’t even know what it is!”
I lived my first two-and-a-half years in this country without a car; Darwin, the kids and I walked everywhere and took overcrowded public transportation, oftentimes waiting hours for the right bus to pass. Only now do we have our 16-year-old battered war vehicle; our Toyota pickup truck with a camper on the back. When we rumble by on the narrow gravel roads in our rural town, many of the neighborhood kids shout, “Chicken Coop! Chicken Coop!” because there are always so many little heads sticking out of it!
Probably within a few years – as the outside world continues its frenetic grasping at ‘new’ and ‘better’ while we remain joyfully content with a simple life in God’s presence – someone will probably label us as Amish.
I am currently away from home to attend a day-long conference several hours away from our little ‘home on the range.’ The majority of the other conference attendees – a mixture of local Honduran Christians and American missionaries – had their advanced cellphones with the big screens, cars that look to be in a lot better shape than ours, and their overall attitude (along with the content of their conversations) dripped with worldly enticement. I felt, as I do in many situations, out of place. Like I’m from a different tribe.
Several of the conference speakers spoke (inaccurately) of the need to correct and educate the local people in matters of technology; that we must show the poor that rather than washing their clothes in the river or in an old-fashioned washbin, they must learn to use a washing machine. (And with what money will they purchase and maintain one if they can barely put food on the table?) Rather than bathing with a bucket, they must learn to do so in a shower, with hot water if possible.
My heart grew heavy with each passing word pronounced by the well-intentioned Honduran speakers, for Christ did not come to improve the worldly conditions of the poor – to make them bilingual or grant them a college scholarship or purchase them a washing machine – but rather to preach the truth in the midst of a world drowning in lies; to pay the price none of us can pay in order to put us into right relationship with our Creator and our neighbor. Whether we claim to serve God at home or in a far-off nation, we must be very careful what ‘good news’ we are proclaiming with our words and lives: that of worldly prosperity (which, even at its best, not all can attain), or the everlasting Good News of a loving God who comes to redeem, to heal, to guide. Jesus went around proclaiming, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is near!” I dare say that that should be our message as well.
In a video on human trafficking that we saw with our older girls in months past, there is a very sincere American missionary fighting the effects of the forced-prostitution industry in Asia, and he very accurately says, “This is not a matter of money and education. In the West there is abounding educational opportunities and plenty of money, but that has not solved the problem of evil. This (whether it is sex slavery, the problem of parentless children, the existence of violent gangs, political corruption, etc) is a spiritual problem.”
To be an overseas missionary — or to serve Christ anywhere — is not a matter of raffling off washing machines and giving college scholarships to help bump people up and out of poverty; it is of teaching others to know and follow Christ; to go to the ends of the earth making disciples, for we know that He will be with us until the end of the age.
Men like Adolf Hitler, Hugh Hefner and others – men with excessive power and know-how (men who have quite strategically gotten what they wanted out of life and whom we can safely say probably did not bathe with a bucket) – have used their privileges, their intelligence, their money not for good but for evil. So we must be careful what we aspire for those whom we are serving. ‘Developing with the times’ and ‘learning the ways of the world’ do not in any way go hand-in-hand with the good news of Jesus Christ. They are two distinct messages with results that find themselves at opposite poles.
‘Helping the poor’ is not a question of bringing them up to the middle-class. If that is our goal and strategy, we may just be creating more ego-saturated materialism addicts whose hearts are even farther from God than they were to start with.
It is and always has been a battle deep within the human heart – whether the person is rich or poor. Light versus darkness. Truth versus lies. Live for the eternal or live for the temporal. Honor God with your life or believe the age-old lie Satan presented in the garden: “Take things into your own hands; you can be like your own gods!”
Last evening, as I stayed at a bed-and-breakfast hotel, I took a long walk. It was very serene — one of those rare moments of ‘alone time’. The cool breeze blew through my hair as I walked the sidewalks and nearly empty streets of an upper-middle-class neighborhood at dusk. Tall, impenetrable walls around each property. Two-and-three-story homes designed with breathtakingly beautiful architecture. Polished, highly protected people with polished, highly protected lives. No noise. No trash in the streets. I felt like I could have been perusing a wealthy neighborhood in any corner of the globe.
It is so easy to be drawn to what is most comfortable, and to then let our lives be dictated by our desire to protect the luxuries and comforts we have. As I walked the empty streets, the quiet breeze accompanying me as I reflected deeply upon the day’s conference, I felt both saddened at the way many in today’s world choose to live while simultaneously awed by God’s grace over our tiny lives and the way He has led us to take firm decisions, both for our own sake and for that of our children. We refuse to be guided by the world’s compass. Just because the world shouts “North!” does not mean that North is the way; it just might mean that the real way is South. At every turn, we must seriously consider whose voice we are heeding; that of the world’s or that of the quiet whisper of the only true shepherd.
(And, let us all remember that several times in Scripture it is noted that Satan is the prince of this world; the whole world is under his persuasion. Let us be careful lest we find ourselves as his unknowing accomplices. Nearly everyone takes the wide path that leads to destruction; few walk the narrow path that leads to life. If you find yourself saying, doing and thinking the same things as everyone else, stop and ask yourself what path you are on.)
My sandaled feet guided me along as my long skirt lapped at my legs in that quiet, perfectly insulated neighborhood, far from the mess of our daily life surrounded by hurting people in our simple cinderblock buildings. Surely in these nice homes bat droppings don’t constantly fall on their sofa and severely broken children don’t wipe poop on their walls!
A very dear family who visited us briefly in January later published on their prayer newsletter that we were ‘so poor’ – the guest room where they stayed was one of our classrooms with foam mattresses on the floor, and they observed that all we eat are rice and beans.
I continued walking, observing majestic homes that anybody would die to live in. Are we poor? I laughed at the question, for I believe we feel as the Apostle Paul felt: having nothing, we have everything. No, we are not poor: we are rich beyond measure, beyond cellphones and luxury bathrooms and insulated homes. We have infinite riches in Christ, for we know that this world is not our home; we are just passing through on our way to the eternal Kingdom where the true treasure is waiting.
Jesus said to be careful where your treasure is, for there your heart will be also. He said to store up treasures not here on earth – not worldly wealth, power, human comforts – but rather treasures in heaven. Lose your life for His sake in order to find it. Deny yourself, carry your cross and follow Him. We must not fall in love with the world and all that it offers; we are to be in the world but not of it. Renew your mind; allow God to transform you so that you may come to know His perfect will. In this life we will suffer, but we must take heart because He has overcome the world! He who affirms that he is united with God, must live as Jesus Christ lived.
And so, I humbly encourage you to evaluate your own life and carefully consider whether the fast-moving train of technology, luxury, over-eating, etc, is taking its many passengers toward a deeper relationship with their Creator, their Savior, or whether it intends to propel them blindly towards a darker fate. The world’s bandwagon has a megaphone that proclaims ‘Entertainment,’ ‘Ease,’ ‘Have it your way.’ Eat and drink, for tomorrow you die. Have we believed this message; have we blindly given our lives over to an untrustworthy system; have we jumped on the bandwagon that is leading many away from God’s heart and His eternal purpose?
We must all remember how Jesus lived among us and that He is calling us to live the same way –fully united with His Father’s will rather than fully rooted in the worldly system.
After all, our message is not a popular one just as Jesus’ wasn’t, but we proclaim it boldly and with great faith, for we know and love He who is guiding us.
All that is in the world will come to an end, but those who do the will of God will live forever.
On Thursday of this past week I began walking from one little building on our rural property to the next in preparation for my Advanced Math class that would start once recess finished. The general energy level on our property was extremely high as we had all just gotten out of Bible study and prayer groups, and everyone was busy eating their mid-morning snack, playing a pick-up game of soccer in our front yard or tapping away some upbeat tune on one of several pianos in our bright purple school building.
I quietly but very purposefully began moving rather unusual objects into our simple rectangular classroom: a large wicker table from our house’s living room [our family’s simple cinderblock home lies about six paces from our high school building as our family life with our 8 foster children is very intertwined with our open-door ministry efforts to the local community], three wooden stools, several boxes of colored pencils, a large bucket of water, old rags, and a cup of detergent.
As I greeted and passed by different students and teachers on my way in and out of my classroom, I smiled big – not only because we daily practice the art of joyfully loving one another, but because on that particular day I knew something no one else did.
Abigail, one of our new students this year, a 13-year-old in our small 8th-grade class, eyed me with a twinkle in her eyes and said boldly, “Teacher! I think you’ve got something really fun planned for our math class today! …I mean, just look at that big grin you’re wearing on your face!” She wagged a silly finger at me, waiting eagerly for me to affirm her conclusion.
My eyebrows arched high and my eyes widened as my smile grew even bigger (if that was even possible). I answered, “Oh, Abigail, I always wear this grin on my face, despite the circumstances! So, really, you have no idea if I have something fun planned or not…” I shrugged my shoulders high as my smile remained intact, inciting her to question her teacher’s sanity (as she had probably already done on several prior occasions).
She suddenly looked perplexed and then, slightly worried, as she realized what I said was true. “Yeah, you are always smiling…” [Here at the Living Waters Ranch we like to say that our smile is our uniform. Whatever is happening – good, bad or ugly – we choose to receive and display the joy of the Lord.]
I made a tight squeeze through the doorway with the rather clunky wicker table pushed through on my hip as I glanced over my shoulder at her, “I love you so much, sweetheart! See you in five minutes when we enter class!”
Our rural neighborhood – and the country of Honduras as a whole – is known for devastatingly low educational standards. Overcrowded, underfunded government schools are required to pass all students automatically, and it is not uncommon for youth to spend years in the formal education system without having learned virtually anything. Many students graduate high school without knowing the times tables or basic grammar rules.
In my Advanced Math class that meets four hours each week, we are putting an end to educational corruption, to a system that enables students to pass on to the next level without having first mastered the level they’re at. We work on strengthening their generally weak math base with dynamic methods and then go onward with loads of mental math, complex problem sets and, of course, many hours of homework each week. I like to call my students ‘human calculators.’
And so, five minutes later when all 12 of my precious mathematicians came sweatily bounding into our unairconditioned classroom after recess, I walked to the front of the room and began the process of announcing that secret that had placed that unusually large grin on my face.
Our 12-year-old daughter Gleny, one of the youngest students in the mixed-grade homeschool-style class, saw the bucket of water near the door and made a strikingly accurate guess as she plopped down into her seat: “Oh no. Those of us who didn’t pass the exam are gonna have to wash the walls.”
I threw my head back and laughed freely while all 12 eyed me with dread. It was, after all, the last day of the first grading period, and they had taken their final exam the class prior. I would be announcing the news everyone was anxious to hear.
After a short lecture, I began writing their final grades on the white board as the suspense grew exponentially…
Only three students passed the class: one with flying colors and two by the skin of their teeth. The other nine missed the mark. Several had a final average of somewhere around 45%. [But I know something that they perhaps don’t: even those who earned a woeful percentage in my class have progressed mightily as they’ve learned more than many youth in local public institutions who pass with high grades.]
Without ever taking the large, sincere smile off my face, I ushered the three victors over to the wicker table at the other end of the classroom where I had snacks, encouraging hand-written celebratory notes, colored pencils and open-ended art projects for them to enjoy.
The faces of the other 9 dropped. I had warned them several days prior that they needed to put forth a great effort to study for the exam, because they surely wouldn’t like the consequences if they didn’t. Now they all knew that they were about to find out just what those consequences would be.
I asked them one by one how much time they had dedicated to prepare themselves for the final exam – which was worth half of their final grade. Their answers: one hour. Five minutes. Not at all.
I then glanced over at the victors and asked them how much time they had dedicated to study for the exam. Their answers: five hours. Seven hours.
My heart rejoiced as I reminded my students – the best and brightest in our homeschool program – that, in real life (as in our class) consequences always line up with decisions. You reap what you sow.
And that is why I was so giddy. In our world – and especially in this Central American country where we live – so often the consequences experienced in this life do not line up with choices. The lesson of ‘you reap what you sow’ is so easily lost when the murderers and the liars seem to be getting ahead and the ones who dare to act justly get killed. Here there is very little trust in just consequences due to an unresponsive, corrupt justice system. Whereas the lesson of ‘you steal or kill, you go to jail’ should be present in everyone’s minds, here there is no such thought impeding evil deeds. Here, you steal or kill and you can just keep on doing so for many years to come because generally the police do not respond as they should and/or are paid off by evil gang lords.
In other schools, students can put forth a sub-par effort and receive grand certificates and diplomas. Lies are everywhere, especially in the Honduran educational system. A dear neighbor of ours will be graduating from the local public high school soon, and he’s renowned as a very good student, but his grammar is that of a very young child and he has yet to learn the times tables.
And so on Thursday my heart rejoiced, because I knew that my beloved students would learn an invaluable lesson. Several of the 9 students who did not pass – three of our daughters included in the mix – had never before experienced such academic failure. Perhaps they were finally in a class that could not be passed with a nominal effort.
With the three who passed the class joyfully working on art projects in the far corner of the room, I then began filling the board with the ‘recuperation’ requirements. ‘Recuperation’ is a mandatory process in Honduras that is designed to ensure that all students pass, something which we are not in agreement with but is a process we are required to do. Whereas in most schools the failing students simply show up the next day to take the same exam again (several times if necessary), a false grade assigned if even so they never manage to pass the make-up test(s), we have a new technique: assign physical jobs and heavy homework loads as recuperation. If they do not complete the task with excellence, the failing grade remains the same.
Basically, you have to work if you want to pass (what a novel concept).
Recuperation to be turned in next week: 1.) Write the entire 4-page exam all over again, by hand, and complete it with excellence. 2.) 20 additional problem sets (each of which takes over 20 minutes to complete if done quickly) done with excellence. 3.) Wash the walls of our classroom today; wash those of the other math classroom tomorrow during recess. 4.) Receive a ‘strike.’ (Three strikes and you go to after-school detention, which lowers your overall GPA and is 2+ hours of physical labor under the sun). 5.) Write a half-page reflection about what you’ve learned.
My precious Gleny sighed deeply as she read the board – she had been right about washing the walls. Abigail, the one who had seen the wicker table and the colored pencils and optimistically guessed that the fun activity would be for everyone, eyed me with a little smile on her face as she began copying in her notebook the long list of recuperation requirements.
I went around the room, giving loving pats on the back and words of encouragement in the midst of total emotional devastation for those who did not put forth the necessary effort to pass the class. One of our new students, a 14-year-old boy, eyed me angrily as I blurted, “You know, I really like you! Even if you don’t like me, I really like you! You are gonna do a great job with the recuperation!” I gave him a hearty pat on the back and threw out a joke or two to lighten the overall mood among those poor souls who would soon be drowning in make-up homework.
That blessed day the students worked two at a time sudsing down the bright purple classroom walls while the others worked with pencil in hand to begin the long recuperation process, which would then be finished during their own time over the weekend. I sat at that delightful wicker table with the three who had worked their butts off to earn the prize. We drew. We colored. We chit-chatted. They divvied up the bag of snacks and read the hand-written notes I had left for them. It was great!
The following day I fulfilled my word to the 9, rounding them up during recess to finish the wall-washing job in the other math classroom. Teens on hands and knees, towels and rags in hand, soap and water everywhere, while less mature students from other classes passed by, observing the unusual process. After all, the ones washing the walls are the best students! They aren’t normally the ones who are assigned such consequences! What on earth had happened?
So we thank God, because this process of connecting hard work with rewards (and sub-par work with displeasing consequences) is not something that happens only in my classroom, but rather it is a team effort among those of us who serve, teach and disciple at the Living Waters Ranch. Several local Hondurans who have visited our mission (and those who now labor alongside of us) have commented that we “teach people how to live.” In a world devoid of love, we love abundantly because God first loved us. In a world devoid of truth, we proclaim it boldly. In a world where everyone is busy destroying one another and themselves, we go about quietly picking up the pieces, rescuing the lost and indicating the Way. In a world of confusion, of consequences that don’t correspond with actions – truth paid with murder; corruption paid with great wealth – here on this little piece of land we take very seriously the process of carefully forming those who come to us, of teaching them to live in the light of Christ, to take responsibility for their actions and, ultimately, to stand before the throne of the just Judge and give account for their every action, thought and decision.
The following day, my permanent smile fixed in its place, a 17-year-old young man who is new to our school this year found me during lunchtime and extended his hand. I instinctively reached mine out to receive his, although the lunchtime hand-shaking gesture seemed a bit odd. I tilted my head and looked at him as he began: “I just wanted to thank you for what happened yesterday.”
I felt confused. He was one of the ones who had not passed the class and who would now be working his butt off all weekend. What good could have possibly happened to him yesterday? “Y-yester-? Wha-?”
He continued: “For the math class recuperation. It is fair. I really appreciate that Jackeline [one of our daughters who is in the class] earned a 69 average, but even so you didn’t bump her grade up to 70. In other schools around here they would just give everyone a passing grade, but here the teachers are really interested in making sure that we learn. I’m gonna make sure that in this next marking period I work a whole lot harder to make sure I pass.” His smile was genuine, and his wisdom striking. He gets it!
My jaw was dangling somewhere down around my ankles as I sputtered, “ Oh, yeah, uh – great! Of course! We are so proud of you…” And he was off, getting ready for his after-school agriculture class with Erick. Wow.
We give thanks to God for guiding us as we form the young men and women that He brings us according to His Word, His love, His justice. While a handful of youth have left our program because they have chosen to believe the lies offered by a world that says decisions and consequences do not line up, we give joyful thanks to God for the roughly-40 who have chosen to stay, who like the 17-year-old young man who thanked me for the heavy discipline procedure understand what we are trying to do and are submitted to God throughout the process. Pray with us that the Lord would raise up great Christ-centered leaders (servants) among those whom He is training and transforming among us for His good pleasure.
Darwin and I have been actively educating our children and teens in the realm of godly stewardship (how to wisely and generously manage their finances) for several years. Each of our foster children have several weekly chores that they are responsible for, and they receive a small income for them every other week. In a recent family meeting we shared with them the idea of investing their savings in the purchase of a young dairy calf, which will eventually grow at almost no cost and can then be sold (or kept to have babies). Jackeline, one of our teenage daughters, very enthusiastically embraced our suggestion and has since utilized the money she had been saving in order to purchase a young female dairy cow from a neighbor who sold it to us at a great price. Her calf now lives on our large rural property with our small herd that Darwin manages and milks each morning with our 15-year-old son Brayan. We are very excited that she has made this wise investment, and the cow – especially if it gives birth several times, whose calves can then be sold – has the potential to provide the income to send Jackeline to college, help transition her into adulthood, etc. You go, girl!
The following are photos from Pastor Domingo’s weekly Carpentry Club. He is a local pastor whose son entered our high school last year. He is now involved part-time as one of our Christian laborers and teaches elementary-level math, supports one of our prayer groups, teaches a Christian leadership class and does weekly house visits to our students’ homes in addition to leading the Carpentry Club. He is in the process of finishing a large swing set structure that will soon be installed in the Living Waters Ranch’s front yard.
A House Full of Pianists
Our eldest daughter, 16-year-old Dayana, continues faithfully onward in her piano studies as she is now in her third year of playing music under Darwin’s guidance. Every Saturday she goes into the nearby city of La Ceiba as Darwin’s assistant to teach piano lessons to a small group of young students. She has a dogged work ethic and has been extremely consistent in practicing roughly ten hours each week. Six of our other children are also in piano and/or violin, and just recently I, too, began practicing piano on a daily basis. Several months ago I felt God was nudging me toward learning more hymns and worship songs on the piano (I took lessons for about six months upon moving to Honduras in 2012), and as of this past week I am joyfully walking in obedience! I sat down at the piano bench for the first time in several months on Saturday to learn a new hymn, and I ended up practicing for five hours! In these past six days I’ve practiced 13 hours and learned two new worship songs! It is becoming a daily routine in our household that once our students and teachers leave around 3:45pm, several of us head to the schoolhouse (where the two big pianos are and several keyboards) to tap away for an hour or two. We praise God for this aspect of our daily lives and are encouraged as we see the majority of our kids develop the self-discipline and focus required to learn a musical instrument for God’s glory.
This is a photo of our four full-time Christian laborers (Reina, Erick, Isis and Ligia) taken during a team-building workshop we held in January. (Pastor Domingo was not present at the taking of the photo.) We give thanks to God for His faithful (and extremely hard-working) servants!
Relational Discipleship
We are thrilled and blessed that all of our Christian laborers have begun actively forming relationships with our students after-hours and on the weekends. Three of them live in our tiny rural neighborhood while two daily take a bus in from a nearby city. Erick, whose story I mentioned on a prior blog, has started a weekly Bible study in his home for several of our teen boys, and Pastor Domingo has opened up his home on the weekends to several of our students whom he has joyfully put to work sanding and sawing in his carpentry shop. He has also received several students in the church he leads in his front yard, and our other teachers recently organized a riotous hiking/swimming outing to a local nature spot on a Sunday. We are thankful that God is allowing us to form a holistic ‘lifeline’ for these children and youth who may not have other loving, God-fearing adults in their lives.
This is a photo of Miss Isis’ weekly dance club. Four of our kids (Dayana, Brayan, Sandra and Josselyn) are in this class, and I think the two hours that they get footloose in our dining room are the highlight of their week!
Here is a photo from Erick’s weekly Christian Leadership after-school club. (He teaches the class with a certain group of students on Wednesdays, and Pastor Domingo has a different group on Tuesdays.) Reina, who is one of our teachers, participates in the class as a student along with Geraldina, Sandra’s mom who manages the kitchen.
Genesis Returns Home
Genesis, the teenager who had moved from across the country to live with us and study in our high school, unfortunately made the decision to return home to her family. She struggled with great mood swings and general negativity during her four weeks living in our home, and despite our best efforts to encourage, pray for, and try to convince her to continue studying and preparing herself to fulfill God’s will for her life (she had said that she wanted to become a lawyer, learn piano and return to her rural village fully equipped to serve God), she decided to return home about two weeks ago to her dry, very poor rural region where she has almost zero educational opportunities and no plan. Please pray with us for her, as we do not believe she made the correct decision but hope all the best for her according to God’s will for her life.
Here are photos taken during Darwin’s Advanced English class. Two local young people who are not students in our school participate in the classes as well. Darwin loves to go around speaking English to all of our students, but very few of them have any idea what he’s talking about!
Working as a Team: Learning to Delegate Tasks
Amidst our many daily responsibilities as parents, directors of the Living Waters Ranch and teachers, Darwin and I are learning which tasks can be delegated and to whom. We are very excited and blessed that we have now delegated all of our legal communications with our lawyer who resides seven hours away in the capital city (in Honduras your lawyer has to live in the capital city if you want to experience any progress because that is where all the legal action takes place) to Miss Ligia, one of our faithful teachers who is a trained lawyer. She has taken great initiative to communicate and move forward with our capital-city lawyer in the adoptions that are currently in-process along with several other general legal procedures. We thank God for the team of very hard-working local Hondurans He has placed at our side and for the fact that Darwin and I are learning to rely upon them so that we do not get stretched too thin.
The following are photos taken during my secondary-level Art Club. On this particular day the students’ creativity was unleashed as they used clay, pipe cleaners and goggly eyes to design their own city/world — they could choose between the ‘Earth’ theme or, more fun, ‘Outer Space!’
Prayer for Sandra
We are currently seeking prayer for Sandra, the local teen who we met last year when she entered our homeschool-style high school and then later moved in with us for seven months to escape a situation of sexual abuse in the home. She has since moved back in with us nearly two months ago due to various dangers and bad decisions she was facing in our rural neighborhood. She has sought Darwin and I out in private to talk/listen, confess different things she had hidden, and seek prayer for her life, but she is still extremely unstable and, according to what our other daughters have told us, seems to be on the cusp of dropping out of our high school and returning to our rural neighborhood to live a life of purposelessness and sin. She is extremely bright and has many God-given talents, but lacks perseverance and steadfast faith to see things through. She was baptized last year and has expressed to us several times that God has placed the desire on her heart to begin ministering to a group of young children who wander aimlessly around our neighborhood through the creation of a weekly Bible study, but she is easily distracted and has yet to take any steps toward fulfilling this specific call God has on her life. We love her dearly and have been through quite a bit with her thus far, and we are seeking prayer once more that God would illuminate her mind and that she would remain firm in her decision to love and follow Christ.
A few weeks ago Darwin and I celebrated our two-year anniversary of parenting 13-year-old Jackeline (the proud new cow-owner) and her 8-year-old special needs brother Josue. We took them out to a local restaurant while Erick and his wife Aracely came over to our house to stay with the rest of our kids. Jackeline and Josue continue to have monthly contact with their biological relatives, and by God’s grace we maintain a very positive relationship with them.
Insomnia Progress
There is finally good news to be reported about my insomnia! Over the past two months I have been visiting a very professional local physical/massage therapist twice weekly as a last-ditch resort to finding the root of my sleep disorder. She has found several stress-related physical problems that have remained hidden over the last several years, and she has been working with me extensively on how to manage my stress levels better so that they don’t take root and turn into physical problems. My sleeping has improved drastically over these past two months although there is still much progress to be made. At home we have also made several positive changes to help manage stress levels better (such as the aforementioned delegating of tasks along with my new daily routine of playing worship songs on the piano), and I have begun sleeping much better. Please continue to pray for me as this will probably be an ongoing battle over the course of my lifetime (learning to trust in God and lay all my cares/stresses at the foot of the cross). Praise God for this progress!
This is Miss Ligia teaching the Beginners’ English after-school club. We keep class sizes small in order to create a family-like atmosphere that enables individualized contact and relational discipleship. Our teachers spend their recess and lunch period playing and talking with our students in addition to being their prayer group leaders on Tuesdays and Thursdays.This is Miss Ligia’s elementary-level Art Club!
Friday evening as everyone was finishing the task of hand-washing their school uniform and getting everything in order after a long day I called a family meeting, something we normally do when there is a specific household issue we need to discuss or important news to be announced. I sent out young messengers to spread the word, and within minutes everyone was sitting in a circle in our rectangular living room – three on our little floral couch, one on an old wicker chair, and everyone else comfortably seated on the floor.
I sat cross-legged with the cool tile underneath me between teenage Brayan and little Gabriela with my laptop in front of me, a tool that does not typically accompany us in a family meeting or in our daily interactions with the kids.
As Darwin prayed to begin the meeting – everyone’s head bowed and eyes closed — out of nowhere a deep sorrow hijacked my emotions and tears suddenly came seeping out of my eyes. Something had been released from deep within me, and there was no stopping it.
Soon enough the prayer ended and everyone began staring at me – for I had called the meeting – and everyone seemed entirely caught off-guard by my tears as my whole body suddenly exhibited an attitude of mourning. Initially I had wanted to share the news article on my computer with our children in order to expand their worldview a bit, but once the moment came to do so, I was overcome with a wave of intense emotions that I couldn’t stave off.
A minute or two later, everyone just staring at me in silence, waiting, I opened up my computer, breathed deeply – trying to chase the sorrow back into its cage deep within my heart and slam the door shut before it tried to escape again – and began reading and explaining a news article that I had read earlier that day. Groping through rattled thoughts for where to start, I said slowly, “I don’t know if you know this, but many children who do not have their biological parents…end up in very dark places…”
In a facility prepared to care for roughly 400 kids and youth, it had been reported that there were close to 800 living there full-time, with 15-19 new children and teens arriving each day. Juvenile offenders – young men who had already gotten mixed up in a life of crime and gangs – lived intermixed with teen girls and child-abuse victims, creating a daily vortex of rape, gang activity within the orphanage walls, and all types of abuse. Death-threats were common among workers. Spoiled food was served to the children due to lack of sufficient government funding. The workers – who by no means were parental figures for the youth – worked 24-hour shifts with one worker for each group of 34 children/teens. (Think crowd control.) Hundreds had escaped over the last few years, and just this past week a group of disgruntled teens began rioting in the orphanage and physically assaulting the workers.
It was amidst this overall chaos that on Tuesday of this past week the riots intensified to such a degree that the Guatemalan police got involved. A group of 52 angry teenage girls who lived in the facility had to be physically detained due to the violence they had been inflicting on the orphanage’s workers, so someone decided to enclose them in a four meter by four-meter classroom under lock and key. Given thin mattresses to sleep on (52 teenage girls in a 16-square-meter space), it is alleged that one of them, in protest, lit one of the mattresses on fire, hoping to get the attention of the police and other authorities who stood close by on the outside of the classroom walls.
The news articles report that the police saw smoke seeping out from under the door and even heard the girls crying for help (they were burning alive), but no one reacted because they thought they were just angry and screaming for attention, as they had been during the prior riots.
Once someone finally unlocked the door, dozens had already burned to death, and others were so wounded that they soon died overnight in the hospital. Doctors and burn-specialists have been flown in from other countries to help treat the severity of the burns of those who are still fighting to survive.
And so this is the news I shared as I wept in front of our children, displaying such raw emotion that on very few occasions I have shown.
They just stared at me uneasily, for their world apart from their biological parents has been us. They have known no overcrowded government-run orphanages; they have known no shift-workers assigned the impossible task of herding mass numbers of severely broken children through the chaotic mazes of life in a place void of truth, of love.
What our kids have known are good-morning and good-night hugs with several other loving acts of touch sprinkled in throughout the day. Three square meals a day; family dinners filled with laughter; individual birthday parties and trips to the local corner store to buy ice cream after having gone to the park. Loving discipline; family and individual prayer; Spirit-led advice constantly at their disposal. Times of discord resolved through healthy confrontations; very firm and careful norms in our household to ensure that no sexual or physical abuse may blossom among siblings; family movie nights. An entire closet-full of clothes, many of which they themselves went to town to pick out; a listening ear from Darwin and I whenever they need it; a whole garrison of spiritual support though various Bible studies, prayer groups, and Christian mentors and psychologists. A family environment of forgiveness in which we all recognize that Christ took on our burden and set us free. Field trips to far-off places like the capital city of Tegucigalpa or a remote desert island off the coast. As our eldest daughter mentioned in her reflection journal, “I consider that God lives in my family.”
As I continued explaining the news article – the dark reality that so many parentless youth not only in Guatemala but around the world experience day after day as ‘normal life’ – I believe perhaps one or two of our older teens grasped at the fringes of what we were trying to communicate. The others looked thoughtful but perhaps not deeply affected.
My heart tore for those Guatemalan youth – not only those who died but all 750+ of the others who survived and have now been shipped off in large groups to other overcrowded orphanages, for we – here in this forgotten corner of the globe far from the public eye – have engaged in this daily battle that many do not even recognize exists. We know how hard it is to save even one, to see even one parentless child set free to actually experience the abundant life that Christ died in order to give us.
This full-on war does not die down – there are no peace treatises with the enemy army or times of rest when you can lay down your shield, your weapons. This is not a physical battle – if only it were that easy! If only it were a matter of removing the child or teen from the environment of abuse to make everything ‘better’! If only it were a matter of granting the child an education, a ‘better life’! When offered an education or the opportunity to follow Christ, the youth so often refuse, have been so confused — so blinded — that they want to return to their suffering!
To receive a teen whose entire family is used to resolving conflicts by utilizing violence – children who have witnessed their own parents be murdered; whose parents taught them to steal – to receive them into the truth; to connect them with a loving God in total submission to Him; this is the battle, and it’s over the long-haul. It is not a matter of shipping them off to a different place or increasing educational funding. It is a spiritual battle.
Oh, this is nothing like a top-secret military mission to break into enemy territory and rescue a suffering comrade from a foreign prison; it is far more intense! It is not a one-time rescue but rather a daily mission – sometimes several times in one day! – of bringing them back into the light; reminding them that their chains have already been broken; calling them once more to faithfulness to a loving God; daily walking alongside of them as we all humbly seek to live a life of forgiveness, justice, and faith that goes directly in contrast with all that the world proclaims.
This spiritual battle is a matter of literally standing at the entrance of Hell – this little rescue shop that God has so strategically placed so close to the flames! – and grabbing those who are on their way in, taking them into our household and then waging war against Satan on their behalf for their salvation, transformation and life. Darwin and I know this – we have the scars, the utter exhaustion to prove it – for 9 youth. Only nine. Nine!
Oh, we have spent ourselves on their behalf, oftentimes through fierce trials, times of intense darkness, times of prolonged prayer and fasting on their behalf. There have been numerous robberies within our own household; depression, accusations and lies have all had to be worked through on the journey towards healing. The battle has been grueling, and it continues each day, for we know that Satan is on the prowl, looking for whom to devour next. And parentless children are oftentimes the easiest prey.
Oh, to battle on behalf of the nine! I cannot imagine 800 who perhaps had no one battling for them. Perhaps no prayer; no good news; no forgiveness. Oh, the times we’ve taken hours to sit down with our teenage girls, listening to their complaints over sometimes petty matters and embracing them in their weeping, praying over them until God’s light once more entered their hearts! And those 52 in flames? The intense, all-out warfare required to save one abandoned teenage girl is a gargantuan task – you must be ready for battle as any seasoned solider trains himself for war. I cannot imagine those 52 who were left in that zoo of sexual abuse, gang activity, and total despair. Utterly parentless and without anyone to light their path.
Yes; Satan preys on parentless children. He loves to do this. We see this all around us in Honduras; those rowdy, sometimes naked little boys who run wild in the streets because Daddy isn’t around and mommy – at best – is at home tending to all her other kids – grow up to be tomorrow’s gang leaders, their hands steeped in blood and their thoughts fixed on destruction. When my husband was kidnapped last year by these same young men, their cell-phones blasted Satan-worshipping music as the heavy sounds sang of death. The young men – some of them mere teens — blasted his body with one rod after the other as he lay tied-up in the dirt, them cackling and roaring with laughter.
Children who do not have parents very frequently end up in very dark places and are then used by Satan to drag others into those same dark places. We know this too well.
To take a young woman whose mother, older sisters and extended female relatives are all prostitutes, and to look her in the eyes day after day – embrace her with God’s love! – and say, “God wants to adopt you as His daughter; and He is calling you to walk in purity. This is the path before you; walk in it in honor of your Father and your future husband.” Oh, this battle will never make the news headlines, but it is far more intense than a simple overseas raid, a fight for petroleum and world power! To win that battle against evil strongholds deep within the heart of that young woman is taxing beyond measure and valuable beyond rubies.
To take a child or teen – any among the multitudes! – and to cup them in your hands and say, “You. God has chosen you to worship His name, to serve Him unto the ends of the earth” in a culture that screams, “You! You will love money! You! You there! You have been destined to love pornography – or to love world travel or or pleasure or food or to love yourself! Yeah! Worship yourself! You deserve it! Bow down at the altar of Ego!”
This – this act of warfare against all that is untrue is where the true battle for humanity’s redemption lies. Truth pushing back the darkness, and just as any soldier who goes to battle on enemy territory must be prepared for anything, so, too, is the spiritual walk with Christ — being used by Him in enemy territory to set the captives free. Light in the darkness of the human heart, so used to being fooled by Satan’s lies.
And so, the breaking news of the 52 teen girls who were enclosed under lock and key, dozens of whom burned to death, is not a question of shaking our finger at the orphanage director or scolding the Guatemalan government for not having given them adequate funding (that is the problem with third world countries – even if they wanted to grant adequate funding, there is no money to do so), but rather to look deep at the absolute chaos that ensues when humanity lives completely given over to the lies of Satan. The lie that sex is not only for marriage – it is for anyone, anywhere, and we all deserve it. Boom. A young woman is pregnant because someone believed that lie. She never wanted to be a mother; the father is already gone. Who will raise the child? Perhaps she, but poorly, or – better yet, she thinks – she will give it to the orphanage so that she may continue living her life, which is replete with despair and lies to begin with. The child is then received as one of the 800 in a total zoo of sin and darkness, quickly being absorbed in that vortex of abuse, anger, and total confusion. Then, events such as the ones that happened last week are understood as just one manifestation of the human destruction that has already been happening around the globe for fatherless children for ages.
We have been studying closely with our children and all of our students over the past few weeks in our twice-weekly Bible study that the human being is the crown of all creation, the final touch to God’s creative work; we are the image-bearers! Satan is so obsessed with our destruction precisely due to that fact; he understands that we are the closest thing to God’s heart, that Father God so longs to have us as His children, His bride, His eternal companions. The human being was designed by a loving God to fulfill the ultimate purpose of being an instrument of that same love – to love God and to love one another! When that love is taken away – when a child or teen grows up without knowing that love, without receiving it, hearing it and experiencing it day after day — the worst of all tragedies happens. Broken image-bearers, cut off from their very life source, aliens to the love that they were destined to enjoy and share. Total human destruction.
After sharing the news Friday evening in our living room, my long legs pulled up to my chest as I sat on that tile floor, I spoke once more, looking at each of our kids in the eyes: “We will never know why, but for some reason – by God’s grace – He has placed each of you here rather than in a place like where those 800 lived.” Dark images darted uninvited across my mind as I imagined each of our of kids in a place like that, possibly even locked in that small room when that fire started. I breathed deeply and chased the thoughts away, for they were unbearable to consider.
What I did not say – what I felt was so obvious that I had to leave it unsaid, for I wanted them to arrive at the conclusion for themselves – was, “Now, react to God’s grace with gratitude. Serve Him joyfully, with thanksgiving overflowing from your heart. Do not murmur; never complain.”
Oh, they complain about the smallest of things! A nasty root of complaints has sprouted up among them in the last few weeks – everyone is rolling their eyes; this and that is ‘unfair;’ our kids are quick to judge, to accuse, to murmur. Just the day prior our 9-year-old Jason sat down to cry as I listened to him. His vision was so blurred by Satan’s lies as he complained about this and that, openly insulting Darwin and I. How unfair it is that his sister gets to play violin and he only gets to play piano! How terrible we are as parents that we let his older sisters go over to their friends’ house to play but he has to stay in our spacious yard to play soccer with his brothers! He wept, his brow furrowed and his little arms crossed as he fired great missiles at me for being a bad parent.
Son! Open your eyes.
That – our children’s ungratefulness towards God’s grace, His provision, His love and commitment displayed toward them day after day through us – is perhaps what had me by the throat more than anything else. But I said nothing, only prayed. Lord, open their eyes; illuminate their minds with Your truth. Enable them to worship You, to live a lifestyle of thanks.
And so the meeting came to a close several minutes later. Once more we bowed our heads to pray. Through tears I asked God to raise up our children to be the future parents to children and teens such as those who were in the overpacked orphanage. More than increased food provisions or better education they need Christ-centered parents who will walk with them – fight for them – on the narrow, beautiful path to freedom as sons and daughters of the living God. And in today’s world there aren’t many volunteers.
The prayer came to a close; everyone got up and left, possibly not deeply affected. I went to my cave-like little bathroom to sit on the light green rug and be alone. As I sat there several minutes, still pushing my full weight up against that inner dungeon door as the beast fought to break lose, I sensed that God spoke to me: “Just as I told my prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute so that he would come to intimately understand how I feel with unfaithful humanity, I have told you and Darwin to take in these children and teens – to love them as your own, to sacrifice your life and personal freedom in order to serve them – so that you can come to know first-hand how I feel with ungrateful, blind humanity. I who rescued all of you from the punishment you deserved – eternal life is at your fingertips if only you trust in My Son! – very rarely receive thanks. Rather, humanity – even those who have been adopted as my sons and daughters, those who trust in My name! – spend their days complaining, murmuring over the slightest of inconveniences. May gratitude and thanksgiving explode from within you! This is my message to You: never complain!”
Moments later I arrived in our living room, for we had a family movie on our schedule for that evening. The kids bounced about, wildly gleeful, as I numbly chose the movie and got the laptop prepared on a small stool in front of where we would all be sitting – some on the small floral-print couch and others on a thin mattress that we had dragged out from one of the bedrooms to put on the floor. This is our weekly movie theater. I saw the movie – 12-year-old Josselyn with her head resting on my shoulder to my right and Darwin sprawled out to my left with my back resting against Jackeline’s legs who sat above and behind me on the couch – in a daze, still trying to make sense of the whole burning incident, its implications, and what God was trying to communicate to my heart.
The movie finished, and we sent everyone to brush their teeth. 13-year-old Jackeline, of course, complained. How terrible it is to brush your teeth! We gave everyone their good-night hug – it was already after 9:00pm, way past our normal Sabbath hour – and began walking them towards their respective bedrooms. I entered little Gabriela’s room as she stood right there in the middle of the floor looking sour. Her arms were crossed defensively and her little bottom lip was strategically sticking out in rebellion.
I touched her shoulder and mustered in the nicest tone possible: “Gaby, it’s time for bed. Tomorrow you’ll be getting up early to go into town with Dad, so you need to rest.”
Sure enough, as has become customary among the human race, she began complaining. I felt as though her murmuring sent long knives deep into my bones as raw images of the darkness in that Guatemalan orphanage flashed through my mind. Yes; it is so unfair to have to go to sleep in your own clean bed in the room you share with your biological sister after a day of classes, fun activities and a family movie! Yes; it is time to complain! We must complain!
I bit my lip, fighting off those images of little girls just like Gaby in that hellish orphanage who daily live under a dark cloak of sexual abuse, over-burdened shift workers, death threats and spoiled food. I helped her up into her top bunk and gently pushed her bangs back in order to kiss her forehead as she avoided eye contact and continued with the puckered-lip rebellion.
Closing the padlock on that deep dungeon door, the beast of sorrow raging about but contained, I gently called for her eye contact and, once I had it, I simply said, “Gaby, please know that God has rescued you; He loves you and He deserves your praise. Please don’t complain. Be grateful, little one, for all that He has done for you.” I repented in my heart, for in her own refusal to give thanks to God I saw myself on so many occasions.
Her facial expression didn’t change, but her eyes did drill mine. I ran my fingers through her hair once more, told her I loved her, and left the room.
The following night (which was yesterday), I sat on a cushion in our bedroom, the lights turned off as three little candle flames danced silently, giving our room a very calm, inviting look. I was reading the book Jesus Calling, thoughts still consumed with all that the Guatemalan tragedy could teach us. 12-year-old Gleny, who had spent the day in town in a local art school and then on a trip to the beach with Darwin and several of her siblings, appeared energetically in our doorway.
“Hi Mom! Can I come in and give you a hug?” She could barely contain her excitement, as I could tell she had had a good day. I smiled big and waved her in. My Wild Gleny who arrived at our home as a pint-sized ball of explosive emotions – I marveled at her in that soft candle light, as I do everyday. So tall; now more mature, calmer. Loving. Happy. I briefly imagined her at the overcrowded orphanage; I imagined all the other little girls who are just as much made in God’s image as her who are in the other orphanage. The beast within me rattled its cage, and I quickly tucked the keys into some remote safe.
This is the testimony God has given me to share right now. There are many different lessons that one can take from the tragic events that happened in the Guatemalan orphanage. Please pray with us for the survivors – those hundreds of children who have now been shipped to other large facilities where they will likely continue onward toward adulthood without ever experiencing the life grounded in love as God designed it. Pray, too, for our children who live with us – that their eyes would be opened to the marvelous grace of God that has saved them from having been in that burning room or having to fight daily for survival in a large institution such as the ones that many children and teens around the globe live in. Lastly, pray with us that God would raise up more people to go and be parents to the orphaned, abandoned and lost children and youth around the globe. This is a beautiful calling, and its importance cannot be overstated.
Let us all be thankful to God and give Him the praises He deserves. He is good and His love endures forever! Amen.
Now, nearly four years into our journey with her, I am publishing not my thoughts regarding our relationship but rather hers. Earlier today as I was waist-deep in finishing the process of weeding through the many stapled booklets of our students’ handwritten reflections, seeking small golden nuggets of wisdom and compelling stories — traces of God’s active work in their lives — I found myself fully absorbed by hers. I read and thoroughly enjoyed the 150+ pages of our other students’ journals, but this blog I will dedicate to the developing thoughts of a young woman whom my husband and I treasure more than she will ever know and alongside of whom we have fought tooth and nail for her salvation and transformation.
She is currently one of our top 8th-grade students in our small, discipleship-based homeschool program, and Darwin and I actively serve as her math, English, Bible and music teachers in addition to sharing with her the daily rhythms of family life in a large, mixed household.
The following paragraphs are separate excerpts taken from her 22-page stapled reflection journal written last month.
Dayana with her little biological brother Jason, who has also been living in our family since November 2013.
I give thanks to God because He has given me a big family full of love in Christ. What we do really well in my family is that whenever there is good or bad news to be shared, we communicate well…I consider that God lives in my family. We are all growing in the love and faith of the only King.
I have so many dreams for my life as an adult. I want to earn two college degrees: Architecture and Music. Another dream is that of helping needy people; be a counselor for youth and adults in accordance with God’s Word; raise children who do not have the protection of their [biological] parents; exercise the gifts the Lord has given me; be my children’s teacher and that of others; marry a man who serves Christ; be a writer or poet; write my own music; be a good wife and mom; show God’s love to the world; offer help free of charge to people who need help cleaning and organizing their homes; go to the ends of the earth proclaiming the truth about God; be an art teacher; be fully submitted to God’s will; live in England or Brazil (but now that I think about it, I will need to live fairly close to my parents so that they can take care of their grandchildren when my husband and I go on dates!); acquire love for my enemies…I can achieve these goals, but if they are not used for the good, it is as if they were never achieved. May it be God who guides my future and my dreams. Everything in God’s hands is good.
Knowing God and having a relationship with Him is not only about saying “I’m a Christian,” but about recognizing our sin and repenting with all our heart. I am a human being and fail every day, but I examine myself and repent. I love God and trust Him. He loves us, and we can prove His love because He sent His only Son to die for us. We do not deserve His forgiveness, but He loves us enough to extend His forgiveness to us. He is my everything.
I am studying at the Living Waters Ranch high school by my own free will. I truly want to be prepared to confront all that lies ahead in today’s world…If we look closely at the local public schools [in Honduras], they do not offer an adequate education, whereas here [at home] I do receive one…I am here to grow in God’s will; may God guide me in my learning, and may all that I learn be for His glory and in honor of Him.
A recent experience I’ve learned from was that of Sandra’s escape. Through that situation I’ve learned not to run away when things are difficult; God has not given us a spirit of cowardice. The whole situation was very difficult because I love her as a sister…God did great things [when we went to visit her the night she was found], and He used me in a great way. She talked with me at length, and I counseled her. I give thanks to God because He gave me the right words according to the truth in order to counsel her. If we run away, we are turning our back on God. Anything could have happened to Sandra, but God protected her. God is using the gift of leadership that He’s given me.
…My parents have heavily impacted my life. They have not only been parents but have also been my counselors and teachers. They have shown me their love, something that not all parents do. I have had many struggles, but even so they love me. They correct me; they discipline me; they give me advice; they love me. Each day I am walking with them towards God. They have taught me to not fear in this world, to love others without taking notice of their defects, to walk in the light, to not lie, and to protect myself for my future husband…
My whole family is Christian by God’s grace. The majority of us have been baptized. We have all confessed our sin; we have repented. In other words, my family is worshipping God. Something that I have present in my mind and that we should all have present is that they [my family] are not going to save me when I am standing before God’s throne. Just because my family is Christian does not mean that they respond for me. No; we all have the responsibility to choose whether we follow God or not.
A terribly silly photo my dad took of Darwin and I with our 8 kids when he visited us in January (Sandra was not present at the taking of the photo). What a goofy crowd!
Please continue to pray with us for Dayana’s continued transformation and renewal; may she daily grow in her love of Christ as He continues to liberate her from the many chains of her past. Let us thank God for the powerful testimony He has already begun etching out in her, and may Darwin and I be granted great perseverance, faith and hope as we continue onward in our journey parenting her for God’s good pleasure. Amen!
Teaching and Mentoring Responsibilities Evenly Distributed Among Team Members
Darwin and I along with the 5 faithful Christian laborers the Lord has placed alongside of us this year are evenly sharing the many daily responsibilities to teach and guide the 40+ youth in our homeschool-style program. This year we’ve added many new classes and extracurricular clubs such as: Agriculture, Advanced English, Carpentry, four different levels of math and reading classes according to each student’s capability, Advanced Music Theory, Sewing, Thought and Logic, Dance, after-school tutoring and others. I am currently directing the twice-weekly Bible study along with advanced math class, high-school-level art club, P.E., after-school tutoring for older students, and one afternoon per week of detention (think extreme military training for the kids who didn’t do their homework). Darwin is teaching 5th and 6th grade elementary school (combined homeschool-style in our dining room), piano club, basic and advanced music theory/recorder, advanced English, P.E., and Level 3 reading in addition to guiding a group of young men in our twice-weekly prayer groups. It has been very exhilarating thus far as we’ve implemented new classes and styles of teaching to better meet our students’ complex needs. Each Christian laborer is responsible for various groups of students each day, and thus far our new method is working seamlessly. We praise God for our new system of education as He’s been guiding us one step at a time over the last two years to make necessary changes, add new dynamics, etc in this beautiful effort to teach and disciple youth on the far margins of society for His glory.
This is Michelle, a 10-year-old student in first grade at the Living Waters Ranch.
This is Geraldina, Sandra’s mom who makes everything run in the kitchen. I caught her off guard with my request to take a photo of her earlier this week, but she was quick to strike a pose! She is now in her second year of having separated from her abusive husband, and she is faithfully seeking the Lord’s will for her and her four children as she valiantly seeks new, healthier beginnings.
Erick and Aracely Move to El Pino to Minister to Local Youth
Erick, who served alongside of us at the Living Waters Ranch in 2014 and returned full-time as a teacher/mentor as of last month, has moved to our rural neighborhood with his wife and two young children so as to participate more fully in the ministry to the local youth who visit the Living Waters Ranch during daytime hours for discipleship and schooling. The house he is renting is strategically placed on the same block as roughly a dozen of the youth in our school, and he and his wife have opened their doors after-hours (nights and weekends) to form relationships with many of the teenage boys in our school who live close to them. He and his wife have taken tremendous God-directed initiative in our group effort to relationally disciple the many youth who the Lord is bringing to the Ranch, and we are thrilled that now our students have another safe, loving married couple to turn to on nights and weekends when Darwin and I are with the 10 who live with us. Erick is in the process of starting a Bible study in his home on Sunday nights for the youth, and he’s already begun taking several of them to church with him on the weekends. This type of initiative to reach out to lost youth in such a self-sacrificing way (giving up time with his family or to rest) is almost nonexistent in our neighborhood, and we are so thrilled that he and his wife are exhibiting such commitment to the Lord’s call on their lives. Please pray with us that the Lord would sustain and encourage them in their efforts, and that the many seeds that are being planted would give a great crop for God’s glory.
This is 13-year-old Joel, a new student to the Living Waters Ranch. He had spent six years of his life in the public education system in our rural neighborhood without learning to read and write, so he is now on the second-grade level with us. He is a very special young many who is very immature for his age and struggles with learning disabilities, and God is teaching us many things through our relationship with him.This is Reina, a new local teacher who signed on to serve at the Living Waters Ranch this year. She has extensive experience teaching small children, so she has been an incredible blessing to our small group of rag-tag first grade students in addition to the academic support she gives to the teenagers at the Living Waters Ranch. She is typically very reserved and professional, so when she struck this pose, we were all shocked! Way to go!
Missionary Couple from Guatemala Trains the Team of Servants at the Living Waters Ranch
An American missionary couple who has been serving God in children’s ministry in Guatemala (a Central American country that neighbors Honduras) for several years came to stay at the Living Waters Ranch for a couple nights in January as they held intensive training sessions for our team of 7 Christian laborers (including Darwin and I). The couple has many years of experience working as Christian psychologists with severely abused and hurting children, so they freely shared their experiences and know-how with us so that our efforts to love and teach the children might bear great fruit for God’s glory. (Facilitating this training session was part of our 3-week process of team training in preparation to begin the new school year.)
This is 12-year-old Sefora, one of our new students who we’ve known since 2014 through Darwin’s youth choir. She is in art club, Christian Leadership, agriculture and academic support tutoring in addition to being one of our 7th grade students.
This is 8-year-old Josue, our special-needs son who has been living with us a little over two years. He is our faithful ‘assistant’ and loves being involved in the many physical education activities and group games we offer. He has recently made great strides as he’s learned nearly overnight to use the bathroom and now has almost no need of the diapers he previously dirtied several times per day. He is also expanding his vocabulary rapidly (although he has his own ‘language’) and is developing better motor skills. We are so proud of him!
Gabriela’s Ongoing Healing Process
Little Gabriela, who we had guessed might be about 8 years old (she has no birth certificate or hospital records) is probably actually 10 or 11 years old because her body has recently begun entering the puberty process. We are honestly very scared about this because she is mentally and emotionally about 4 years old and daily struggles with many behavioral issues that a very small child would display. We urgently and humbly seek prayer regarding her continued healing process as the scars her sexually abusive step-father left in her life are deep. She daily struggles with basic personal hygiene norms, has extreme difficulties learning and does not play easily with the other children. Compared to where she was when she arrived in our family a year-and-a-half ago, she has come a very long way on the path to recapturing innocence, developing better motor skills and learning about a good God, but the path before her is still very long and uncertain. Pray for Darwin and I, that we may maintain great hope in God for her full recovery and that we may daily manifest God’s perfect love and patience with her in the midst of many trying moments.
This is 14-year-old Charlie, one of our students from last year who did not pass his grade due to irresponsibility and lack of preparation. We love him dearly and are so proud of him. He’s returned to our 7th grade program this year and is now shining as one of our most consistent students. He is in Darwin’s prayer group, advanced music theory class, piano, art club and advanced English. He tends to struggle a bit academically but is very gifted in the arts. He is one of the students who was baptized last year, and he continues faithfully to seek the Lord’s will for his life.
This is 15-year-old Cristian, one of our spunky fifth grade students who was baptized last year. He is in Darwin’s twice-per-week prayer group and participates in piano, agriculture, dance and logic classes each week in addition to academic classes. He and his four siblings who study with us are the first ones in their family to enjoy an education, as their parents and the majority of their relatives are illiterate and never studied beyond third grade.
Prayer Requested to Expedite the Adoption Process
We have been actively involved in the legal adoption process of siblings Dayana (16), Gleny (12) and Jason (9) for roughly a year, and there has been almost zero progress, which is not surprising in Honduras. My legal residency status took nearly four years to get, so we are prepared to wait actively in this process as well. We ask that you would pray with us that the process would be expedited in Jesus’ name; that all the lawyers, judges and local government authorities involved would review our paperwork in an effective manner and that the three adoptions would come to completion this calendar year. God has planted the desire in us to begin the same adoption process with 15-year-old Brayan, so we ask for prayers as many legal ‘balls’ are being juggled at once.
This is 15-year-old Genesis, the new addition to our household who moved from the other side of the country in response to the opportunity to study at the Living Waters Ranch. In the desert-like rural region she grew up in there are very few opportunities to study on the secondary level, and the education given is very poor. She’s been with us nearly a month and is actively involved in all the activities offered at the Ranch. Please continue to pray with us for her and the rest of our family as there are still many adjustments to be made/storms to be weathered as we establish a new ‘normal’ with ten kids/teens in our household.
This is 17-year-old Eber, one of the oldest students in our high school. He is normally extremely shy, so he surprised us all when he struck this rather expressive (and scary!) pose. He is a slow learner and has struggled in his first few weeks in an environment with such strict discipline, homework expectations, etc, but Darwin has been faithful to go out and get him each time he’s gotten discouraged. Many young men his age in our area are involved in delinquent gangs, already have children or ‘wives’ or simply wander around on their bicycles all day without any direction in their lives, so we are very proud of him and thankful to God that Eber is with us. God has already begun speaking to him in a powerful way through our Bible studies and prayer groups, and he is in the beginning stages of transformation for God’s glory.
Gleny (12) and Dayana (16) Return to Art Class
Gleny and Dayana, biological sisters who have been living with us nearly three-and-a-half years, last month returned to a local art school every Saturday as we seek to develop the ‘hidden treasures’ (gifts, abilities and interests) in them. Gleny in particular is thrilled to the moon and back to be in the art class, and we give thanks to God for the local Christian woman who runs the school and serves as another very positive influence in our girls’ lives. The goal of having our girls in this class is to equip them with a diverse skill set (including musical training that they receive at home) that they will be able to use in their future to acquire gainful employment and/or to serve God and others.
This is 11-year-old Jeffrey, who is currently in first grade with us after having spent the majority of his life until now being a vagabond in our rural neighborhood. God is taming this ‘wild man’ with His love, and he’s learning healthy limits through his daily participation in our discipleship-focused homeschool at the Living Waters Ranch. Two of his older brothers are also in our school after having spent a large portion of their life without direction.
This is 13-year-old Sindy, one of our returning students who is now in 8th grade. She is one of the first people in her family to study on the high-school level, and she is currently participating in piano club with Darwin, agriculture classes, advanced music theory, and English classes in addition to the twice-weekly Bible studies that all students participate in and normal academic classes. She got the giggles when I started taking pictures of her!
Over the past several days I’ve spent close to a dozen hours reading our students’ ‘books’ — long handwritten reflections that they’ve carefully torn out of their school notebooks and stapled together. During the three weeks of intensive preparation that finished last Friday, every evening our students were given one or more reflection themes as homework to get them thinking and engage their hearts and minds. Reading their sincere reflections has allowed us to enter the inner world of each student, to know them better and witness close-hand the transformative work the Lord has begun in them.
Some of the reflection themes had to do with their current or future family while others were about their relationship with God, how they spent their school vacations, a situation they had to face with bravery or their personal opinion regarding whether or not cell phones are a healthy tool for teenagers to have. The writing prompts were all very open-ended, and the responses were intriguing.
Although our precious students have many grammatical errors, the heart of their message — the Truth shining forth from their small pencil-written letters and unorganized paragraphs — caught me off guard. It is for this reason that I’ve translated several excerpts from their writings to include them on this blog to encourage those around the world with the good work the Lord has begun in many young lives in Honduras. Seeing as I’ve only got about halfway through the enormous stack of reflections (each ‘book’ is 15+ pages), there will probably be another blog with additional excerpts in the upcoming days.
The following excerpts were written by Honduran youth ages 12-17 who are all currently in poverty, many of which do not live with their biological parents due to situations of abuse and neglect, and some of whom spent the first 10-12 years of their life without entering school. Some have been raised in devout Christian families while others found Christ through their relationship with us at the Living Waters Ranch.
Last Friday the 40+ youth in our homeschool-style discipleship program (both elementary and secondary combined) celebrated the end of the very demanding three-week process of Intensive Preparation as my husband Darwin and the rest of our faithful team planned a fun day of outdoor games for those who had persevered and not given up. Our official school year started this past week.
I believe that God is the only one who can liberate us of all evil. We humans are very difficult because we tend to resist our divine Eternal Father and don’t want to be guided by Him, and that is why there are so many problems in life. – New female student, age 15 (8th grade)
My first week at the Living Waters Ranch high school was very special. God has been changing my life ever since I entered this new school. He has changed my whole life because now I read the Bible, which I never did before. I now pray every night. I am learning more about Jesus Christ, and God has changed my life, and I am so happy about that. Another thing that makes me happy is that God has cured me of the evil I did last year. I believe He has forgiven me.–New male student, age 14 (7th grade)
Ariel and Alejandro, two teen boys who are new to our school. Alejandro (blue shirt) graduated 6th grade from a local public school without ever having learned the basics of reading, writing and math, so he has entered our school on the second-grade level. This is not uncommon, as the public school system is notorious for passing students even though they have learned nothing.
Miss Isis, one of our beloved local teachers who has now been with us a year and a half, enjoying a riotous participation in the field day games
I suffered a lot with my biological mom because we did not have a stable home…We were vagabonds; we did not know how to read. In order to provide food for my siblings and I, my mom prostituted herself. My dad had other women. I do not want to suffer like my mom did…That is basically what happened with my biological family, but by the grace of God my siblings and I stayed alive and together.— One of our daughters, age 12 (6th grade)
I was lost, and God, through the Christian brethren at the Living Waters Ranch, opened my eyes…He sent His son to pay for us. Thanks to God, my life has changed for the better. God loves me. God is the answer to all problems. We must repent with all our heart, and He will understand. He is my father. He is like a lifesaver; in the middle of the ocean we must cling to Him. I was so far from God – a lot of television, just wandering around without purpose, dirty language, very irresponsible. Everything bad that happened to me I blamed God. I used to say, “If God is good, why did He let this happen to me?” I was so wrong, but God – through the Christians at the Ranch – opened my eyes.– Returning male student, age 14 (8th grade)
This is Genesis (red shirt), the new addition to our household, competing in a carry-the-egg-on-a-spoon competition with our daughter Jackeline.
Here in our neighborhood there was a man who liked the easy life. He was a drunkard and liked to play cards. He was also involved in drugs. One day he began reflecting over his life, and he began to seek God. He is now a pastor; he has two children and they follow him everywhere. He is so thankful to God for the change He made in him. This story has helped me because I feel that God is doing the same thing in me.— Returning male student, age 15 (7th grade)
God gave Himself up for all of us on the cross of Calvary so that we would have life in abundance. The Bible specifically tells us about the love that God has for us and what God is capable of as He transforms men. God makes no exception of people – we are poor, rich, small and big, and He takes no note of race or language. We are all important to Him, and God acts in various ways to liberate us from the error of sin that the whole world finds itself in. Many are in gangs or are drunkards; others have different errors but God sends people that He has already liberated so that they can talk to us, to those whom God wants to save. God’s Word says that even in our mother’s womb God chose us to be saved.– New male student, age 14 (7th grade)
Who knew that a potato sack race would be so much fun? Jump, boys, jump!
This is 13-year-old Donaris who is in 4th grade with us. He has severe behavioral problems and struggles with basic social norms. Although he presents many classroom difficulties for several of our teachers, we all thank God that he is with us and not roaming the streets, where he would very quickly fall into a life of crime and sexual perversion.
In my life I want God to make me into one of His instruments. I want to counsel other youth and speak to them of the love God has for them. I also want to help street children, those without responsible parents. I would like to guide them on the right path. One day [last year] when I was in Bible study and my mom was talking about drug addicts and street children, I felt that God touched my heart and I sensed in my heart that God wants me to be the person to help those people, to share with them the good news that God has for them. I would also like to start a mission base just like the Living Waters Ranch in order to raise children and be the mom that they never had, to be a blessing to their lives.. — One of our daughters, age 16 (8th grade)
One verse that I read in the Bible this past week that impacted me is Proverbs 11:4. It says: “When you stand before the Great Judge, your riches will not be able to save you; only doing what is just will liberate you from death.” This means that not even the richest person can buy their own life in God’s presence. It makes me think that being rich would not help me because salvation is not bought with money.— Returning male student, age 15 (7th grade)
Our beloved student Stanley (left), whom I’ve written about on numerous occasions, and Cristian, one of our night watchman’s sons. Cristian (red shirt, right) is 15 years old and in 5th grade with us because he entered school for the first time in his life two-and-a-half years ago when he arrived at our front gate. He was one of our first local students along with his siblings, and he has been enthusiastically completing two grades per year in our accelerated program for older students.
Nowadays all the youth stop studying in order to spend time on their cellphone. I spent three years [they were actually only two, but he always says three] in fifth grade because I was distracted with my cellphone. If I were you, I would put my cellphone away so that you don’t lose points. Plus, the teacher will take the cellphone away from you. I am very proud of myself because I no longer have a cellphone, and now I am more focused than I could have ever imagined, and I thank God for that. This is my opinion.— One of our sons, age 15 (6th grade)
To me, a problem in our neighborhood is that there is a lot of trash on the ground. We should not throw it on the ground because is takes a million years to renew itself, and that’s a long time.— One of our daughters, age 12 (6th grade)
Our 15-year-old son Brayan hauling one of the little 10-year-old boys in our program toward the finish line!
When I began writing the Proverbs [for homework during the Intensive Preparation], at first I did not want to copy them, but then all of a sudden I felt that I wanted to do it because I found a lot of great advice that would prove helpful in my life. I now feel that every time I sit down to write the Proverbs, God is telling me, “I am waiting for you. Sit down and write, and you will be blessed by my teachings.” Also, if one hopes to correct himself, he’s got to read Proverbs. In that way we will not join up with the foolish. – Returning male student, age 15 (5th grade)
One day Brayan and I were in a verbal spat on the porch, so Pa Darwin came and sent us both out to the yard to pull up weeds for a good while. I have a phrase that I invented: “Sometimes hard things happen, but it’s better to shut your mouth.” — One of our daughters, age 12 (4th grade)
During our first few weeks of the new 2017 school year, we’ve worked hard to put into practice positive behavioral norms among our students such as teamwork, mutual encouragement and utilizing one’s energy toward the good (serving God) rather than for evil. It is a very special privilege (and a lot of fun) to organize high-energy team-building events for these kids as God continued to mold their character and tame their heart with His love.Ariel, one of our big teen boys, plopped pint-sized Ever (one of our first grade students) into one of the sacks. Carrying him would definitely make the race a lot faster!
In my life I already have experiences and I have seen how God manifests Himself through those who obey His Word.– New male student, age 14 (7th grade)
When I’m an adult, I want my children to be Christ-centered leaders, just like their parents.— Returning male student, age 15 (7th grade)
Me in the past, I was a cow-herder. I did not know anything; I was not a Christian until I met Darwin and Jennifer. I started to talk with them, and I became a child of God. I am now a follower of Jesus Christ. When I was little I suffered a lot. Now that I am a Christian I enjoy the love of God and I do not ignore people. When someone insults me, the only thing I do is say, “God bless you.” Now the moments of my life are better than they were before. — One of our sons, age 15 (6th grade)
Hurry! Change out the sack and keep it moving!
16-year-old Sandra, who has returned to live with us for a short period, on the left as she and her teammate Arlen (on the right) lend a helping hand to 11-year-old Yefri in the potato sack competition.
Proverbs 8:36 was very impactful in my life because it says “Those that offend Me put their life in danger; to hate Me is to love death.” This impacted me because the teaching is that he who hates God is a lover of death and of Satan. The people in this world don’t know what they do; they go to church but keep sinning against God. We people play with God, but we do not truly think that our body has a limit, and that limit is death. But even so we rebel against the goodness of God. — Returning male student, age 15 (7th grade)
When I’m grown up, I want my wife and I to be responsible parents. I will give thanks to God for the wife He gives me. Also, with my wife I want to help needy people — those who need help raising their children. I want to have 3 biological children and 5 adopted ones, and I want to be faithful to them. I want to form them into well-educated sons and daughters, receiving them from different places. I want to be a loving husband and a loving person. I also desire for God to guide my wife and I on the path of justice; may He give us the hope of really and truly helping others in the same way that God changed me. — One of our sons, age 15 (6th grade)
Now it’s the teachers’ turn in the sacks! Everybody help Miss Isis out!Backup is coming!
[In regards to the 3 weeks of intensive preparation] …I learned that if I don’t turn in my homework, I have to go to detention and I lose a lot of points…I learned that if I put forth a good effort, good things happen. – Returning male student, age 14 (8th grade)
I want to study at the Living Waters Ranch because I want to honor my parents. I am going to learn how to be a Christian leader. The teachers treasure and love me, and I them. Thanks to the teachers, I feel extremely encouraged because they say I’m off to a good start and that I should keep up the same pace until the end. I know that we students sometimes get really foolish and don’t do our homework, but thanks to God that now the Living Waters Ranch has detention.— Returning male student, age 15 (7th grade)
Who’s winning? Who cares?! Everybody just start running, and grab somebody if possible!Everybody work together to haul Miss Isis over the finish line! Miss Isis, don’t wet your pants!
One of my dreams is to become a gynecologist, but if I don’t do that, then I’d like to be a pediatrician in order to help needy children. Another dream that I have is to be a prophet. Each day I ask God to grant me more and more wisdom…— Returning male student, age 14 (8th grade)
In the earlier years of my life, my relationship with Satan was perfect, but my relationship with God was terrible. I did not know God’s love. The Lord called me several times, but I never responded… Now, years later, I have the knowledge of God and I know Him personally. He is marvelous and powerful. Satan is a nobody. Satan promises to offer you things that he himself doesn’t even have. Now I love God with all my heart. I accepted Christ and am 100% submitted to His will.— New male student, age 17 (8th grade)
Last weekend I struggled through one of those long, sleepless nights. I tossed and turned, thoughts bouncing and racing here and there until I finally got up in the wee hours of the morning to use the little restroom that connects onto the bedroom that my husband and I share.
Arms outstretched to feel my way toward the open doorway as my feet felt about carefully in the darkness, I suddenly took three quick, bounding steps and shot out an open palm to flip on the lightbulb in our bathroom. My trip thus far had been a success, for I hadn’t stepped on a scorpion. In and around our house they seem to come out, especially at night, and have oftentimes been found in the middle of my nightly path, in our bed with us, or inside the roll of toilet paper. Every time I get up in the middle of the night my blind feet wonder if they’ll accidentally find one.
As I flicked on that simple exposed bulb, suddenly shedding an extreme amount of light on tired eyes, something else flicked on inside of me: judgment. In a tiny corner of our sleeping cinderblock house in the foothills of some forgotten mountains in a country very few people desire to live in, my thoughts took a direct, unexpected turn toward a certain situation my husband and I were witnessing from afar, and I began to judge the situation – or rather the people involved.
As if on autopilot, I began engaging internally in the act of casting judgment, and I felt justified (as all judges do) in my opinion. It was clear to me that so-and-so had done wrong, and I began playing that delightful (dangerous) little game of judgment as I ruminated on the very few details I actually had about the situation. Couldn’t sleep; didn’t have the mental energy to get up and begin working on the computer or read the Bible. But judge? Oh, sure. At any hour.
The one-sided court case in my mind jumped to the ‘guilty’ verdict after a split-second-long hearing when something suddenly pierced me.
They were words that came out of nowhere, that shot right through the chaos of the courtroom and silenced me and all the other lawyers who backed me up. The din of judgment calmed, disappeared entirely in an instant.
Get off My throne.
I suddenly felt naked in that courtroom, ashamed. I had assumed the throne that wasn’t mine. I had dared to pass judgment on those who are the same as I. Depraved humanity loves to judge depraved humanity – one liar scoffing at another’s lies, one big ego pointing an accusatory finger at another’s bold egotism.
I understood and repented, still surprised by how clearly that word had reached me. My shame and shock were immediately replaced by joy and thankfulness, for He who is on the throne is a perfect, just judge, abounding in mercy and quick to forgive all who seek Him humbly. Scripture even tells us that Jesus is at the right hand of the Father, acting as a lawyer on our behalf! And not a lawyer seeking to condemn but rather to redeem, to liberate. Thank you, Father, that You are the judge. The only trustworthy judge in the whole universe.
Feeling humbled in God’s presence and assured in His love, I quickly glanced at the short path to my destination, checking one last time for scorpions. I then turned off the bathroom light and returned bounding tip-toe-style to our small double-sized bed and crawled up and under our blanket, still in awe of what had just happened.
As I curled up in a small ball, an old pillow wedged between my knees in the pitch black room, I thought it a very special occasion that God would speak to me so clearly and so piercingly. I felt I was to share that bare revelation with others and began wondering how. Was I to plan next week’s Bible study around the theme of not judging others, for when we do so we falsely assume God’s throne as if we were the judge, denying Him?
My thoughts ruminated on this one question of how and when to share the word I received, for I felt He had spoken it to me not only for my own instruction but also for that of others. The wee morning hours dragged on as I searched in my heart what to do. Surely this throne-robbing is a habit that runs rampant among the human race, causing division, accusations and inflated egotism where Father God intends sacrificial love to reign. This word must be shared.
The following day my husband Darwin took our 10 kids (yes, the newcomer Genesis from the other side of the country arrived safe and sound and Sandra is still with us, transforming our 8 live-ins into 10) to the nearby city of La Ceiba for a day of music lessons, paint class, a trip to the beach and a day of errands and fun as I stayed at home planning the upcoming week, reading page after page of our local students’ journal collections and generally getting waist-deep in administrative tasks that simply can’t be done when our kids are at home with us. Several times I considered in my heart what to do with the word God had spoken to me earlier that morning, but I sensed I should wait. He would show me when the time comes.
And, sure enough, when our old pickup rolled through our gate with several little (but actually rather big) people hanging off the back with bright neon backpacks and big wind-blown hair, I went out to greet our increasingly large family that I had not seen for several hours that day. The boys greeted me warmly along with our younger girls, but several of our teen girls (yes; we have many!) seemed put-off. I wondered what had happened.
Moments later, as everyone began filtering into our beloved little home with its large front porch, I found one of our girls in the bathroom close to tears. Another one seemed to be eyeing the sad one from a safe distance. Then, out of nowhere, a clan of three powerful young women came marching toward me and asked to talk in private. I could already sense where this was going, for we have been in (and successfully resolved) situations like these more times than I could count.
It had been a long, productive day and I was on the brink of sending everyone to bed for our family’s Sabbath Hour so that we could all get a little bit of rest after an incredibly demanding week (as they all seem to be), so I hesitated for an instant before finally agreeing to invite them into our bedroom to sit cross-legged on the tile floor with me and get to the root of whatever was happening. Better to get it all out and resolve the problem now rather that let it fester until tomorrow.
Our three girls sat down huffing and puffing, fire just about spewing from their ears as they began openly and rather aggressively sharing with me their complaints regarding their other sisters. There had been team-forming, back-stabbing, hurt feelings and the like. The balance of powers (and friendships) had gone quite off-kilter with the sudden arrivals of 16-year-old Sandra and 15-year-old Genesis, and now it seemed like each one was wondering where they fit on the totem pole and who their closest ally was.
I thanked them for trusting me enough to share all their hurt with me, and then I told them that I would be inviting our other big girls in the room to join us – those whom these three had marked as ‘perpetrators’ – for we have a rule in our house that if someone has a problem or misunderstanding with someone else, everyone involved must be present to resolve the situation together to avoid any back-stabbing, gossiping or further misunderstandings. This also facilitates the forgiveness process and allows for everyone to pray together for peace and for God’s love to abound among us. (This is a weekly and sometimes daily process in our household – facilitating healthy confrontations among irate siblings, sometimes taking up to an hour or two to listen patiently to both parties and then, once everyone is calm, seek together a God-honoring solution. These many, many episodes of conflict resolution have been a secret, powerful ingredient that has enabled us to experience ongoing, deeply rooted joy and love in Christ in a highly mixed household whose inhabitants come from dysfunctional, abusive families.)
So there they sat, all five closed off and ready to attack. Several cried. Each one took their turn to share their point of view. Without fail, each and every one said essentially the same thing, although they themselves were blind to that fact: I felt rejected by you, so then I began rejecting you. I saw you hanging out with so-and-so, and I misinterpreted your actions to mean that you no longer loved me, so then I closed my heart off to you and began rejecting you as I perceived that you had rejected me.
Nearly an hour passed as everyone began winding down. Each person had taken their turn – many turns – and they had said all they had to say. They still had a little bit of fight left in them but their strength was largely fading due to the intense emotional sharing. Everyone had talked; everyone had listened. This is almost always my cue to begin talking (once they’ve finished), so I looked around our tight-knit circle with a soft smile on my face as I saw tired, but open faces. It was getting late, and the rest of our household was already quietly tucked into their bedrooms as my husband waited patiently on the couch in our living room. He didn’t dare enter the female battlefield of roller-coaster emotions, jealousy and teenage insecurity, and I didn’t blame him.
I could read our girls’ faces. They knew that they had nothing else to share — they had already told me that — so they thought, shrugging their tired shoulder, ‘Why not take a few minutes at the end of the battle to listen to Mom? At least we know she has good intentions and wants to help – after all, we sought her out – and we know that she doesn’t take sides, even if each team is actively recruiting her.’
And, as if in an instant of revelation, I suddenly knew exactly what to share. My experience with God the night prior in the bathroom. Were not our girls blinded by their own judgment, just as I had been? Were they not each grabbing at God’s throne, desperate to assume to role of ‘Judge’ so they could stamp a ‘guilty’ verdict on each of their sisters, when they had all participated in the same gossiping, the same emotional warfare? How can one judge the other when they all do the same things? Yes; this was the moment God had chosen to share this word.
And so I did. Carefully, and with great detail and focus. Our girls seemed captivated and intrigued, for it seemed as though I had changed the subject entirely. After all, I was talking about my own struggle with judgment (for they had yet to understand that it was also their struggle). What does Mom’s late-night trip to the bathroom have to do with me?
This apparent change in focus disarmed them completely as they allowed themselves to be wrapped up in the moment. My voice soft and filled with overflowing excitement, I told them, “All day I’ve been wondering how to share this word and with whom, and now I understand that God intends this word for you. In the midst of my judgment last night – swept up just as you are now, casting judgment on others without even having all the information necessary to make a fair verdict – God’s voice pierced my spirit:
…Get off My throne.”
A silent gasp engulfed the entire room as I believe that same word that snatched me from my own inner courtroom the night before likewise liberated our girls in an instant. For the first time in perhaps the whole day – in the midst of emotional warfare, hurt feelings, judgment and back-stabbing – each one suddenly understood exactly what had been at play. They had each assumed the throne that was never theirs to assume: they had observed a negative glance or the unavailability of their sisters and quickly passed judgment, stamped a guilty verdict, assumed the all-powerful position of ‘Judge.’
I continued. “Even the best of lawyers and judges – having conducted very thorough investigations – will never have all the details. Did you know that many people are sentenced to prison each year without having committed the crime they were accused of? There have been studies that have shown that some people have wasted away – years of their life gone forever – in a jail cell, but the lawyers and judges were wrong. Or biased. Or they simply didn’t have all the information. There is only one Judge, and He’s perfect. We can trust Him, and the throne is His. It will never be ours –“
13-year-old Jackeline, who had been extremely heated and put-off only moments prior, added, eyes wide and sincere: “…We must get off His throne…”
With that new revelation alive among us, quickly the girls one after another began asking forgiveness and we prayed together before everyone finally went off to bed with a lightness, a joy that was far from them earlier that day. I smiled and thanked God in my heart.
Since then our 12-year-old daughter Josselyn shared with me in the ensuing days that God stopped her in her tracks as she began judging in her heart. She came up to me with wide eyes and her unkempt black hair one afternoon: “God just spoke to me! I had begun judging someone in my heart, and suddenly I heard, ‘Get off My throne.’”
13-year-old Jackeline shared with me several days later that during a visit with her biological family members, the adults present began a rather aggressive disagreement, each one casting judgment on the other, and she spoke up boldly, “Get off of God’s throne! Each of you is judging the other, but God is the only true judge!” Her family members, who are not Christians, just looked at her oddly, but they did calm down.
I thank God once more for this word He shared with me, and I hope it helps you in your daily life. There is only one Judge, and He is trustworthy! The throne is occupied!
About a week ago during our family’s daily ‘Sabbath Hour’ — the whole house covered in a precious blanket of silence, our kids peacefully in their rooms while our candle’s small flame danced soundlessly along our bedroom’s dark walls after a long day — my phone suddenly rang.
It was not too late to receive a phone call — about 8:00pm or so — but when your whole household is on its feet and showering at 4:45am and all day is spent meeting the needs of dozens of very precious, needy people (of all ages), any phone call received after nightfall seems like a bad prank.
I continued brushing my teeth in the little cave-like bathroom that connects to our bedroom, standing idly in my large, baggy pajamas as Darwin reached for the phone. After a quick verbal exchange, he held the phone out to me — a gift I did not want to receive — and informed me, somewhat confused, “It’s Genesis from Choluteca.”
Choluteca is one of Honduras’ 18 regions and is located at the other geographical extreme of our small Central American country. Darwin, three of our kids and I had gone there on a mission trip with our faith community back in January 2015 and then again once more in the ensuing months. The drive to that arid, destitute part of our country takes about 10-11 hours, and the people there are steeped in a poverty that is even more harsh than that of our wounded and limping neighborhood on the northern coast. Many of the people have only corn to eat and are without electricity and running water.
I accepted the phone hesitantly, still trying to grasp exactly who was on the other end and why on earth they would be calling after two full years of zero contact. I answered wearily only to be greeted by an extremely polite, upbeat female voice.
She began asking how our daughters were (by name) and how my husband and I had been. About five minutes into our conversation it dawned on me: this was Genesis, the young 13-year-old teen whose father was a devout believer and had so graciously received us in their home during our stay in their village. I suddenly remembered the instant connection we had had with her — especially that of the friendship our daughters Gleny and Dayana had formed with her — and how we had marveled at her maturity, faith and dogged work ethic. I remember having been very impressed by the young woman while we worked alongside of her, and I had left a letter for her inviting her to come visit us in the future if the opportunity presented itself.
With that lightbulb suddenly aglow in my mind — remembering who I was conversing with — I tip-toed over to our older girls’ bedroom (breaking the delicate Sabbath Hour with my loud phone conversation), and joyfully handed the phone over to Dayana and Gleny to greet their long lost friend and sister in Christ.
After talking at length with our girls, Genesis talked with Darwin and then again with me. Now probably 15 years old, she informed me that she was not currently studying because the educational opportunities — especially on the secondary level — in her region are extremely limited, and her family did not currently have the economic means to find other educational options for her.
Our joyful conversation came to an end and, well, we hung up the phone. Suddenly our little house fell back into that beautiful silent void as my husband and I just stared at each other from across our cozy, nearly dark bedroom. The little flame kept its rhythm as it lapped at the darkness.
Should I say it? No, right? I felt like God was urging me to speak, but it seemed in my best (selfish) interest to keep quiet. Who to obey?
After a moment or two passed, my voice suddenly came out, like a soft but very focused missile, as I felt I must speak so as not to fall into cowardice.
“I feel like God wants us to extend Genesis the invitation to come study in our school and live with us.”
Really? Now? How absurd! Had I not just that same morning ruminated over the current status of our very full household, giving thanks to God for the 8 precious little (and increasingly big) ones he’s placed with us, convinced in my heart that no one else would be added to the tribe this year?
Darwin just smiled, as I believe God has spoken the same instruction to his own heart. We talked briefly — about a minute or two — and then decided to call her back and extend the invitation. She is our sister in Christ, desires to study and grow but has had no open doors, and she suddenly calls us out of nowhere for the first time in two years. And we just happen to have an extra bed in our older girls’ room and are prepping to begin our second year with our discipleship-based high school. How could we possibly deny this was God’s doing? Were we about to cling to our own notions of control, living by sight rather than by faith?
So we called back, she answered, and we extended the invitation. It was received with immediate enthusiasm, and the phone was quickly passed to Genesis’ father and mother, with whom Darwin communicated the logistical details. Both parents were overjoyed and commented to Darwin that they had been praying for this opportunity for years. God was finally answering their plea through our obedience.
We quickly called in Dayana and Gleny, again breaking our family’s Sabbath Hour with news-sharing and late-night group praying. We told them of Genesis’ arrival, and the news was received with two big grins. Once the details were conveyed, 16-year-old Dayana eyed me and asked, “But she is going to study in the local high school, right?”
Darwin and I quickly glanced at one another, confused at her strange remark, and I answered, “Of course not! She’s going to study here. In the Living Waters Ranch. With you.”
Dayana looked uneasy and added, “But she’s going to be in ninth grade.”
My jaw just about dropped to the floor as Darwin and I suddenly locked eyes. Ninth grade? But our school only goes up to eighth grade!How had we possibly forgotten to ask her what grade she was going to be in? I suppose we had assumed she was on her way to 7th grade, which is the first year of high school in this country!
A wave of panic slammed us for about an instant before I threw my head back and laughed — of course Father God had hidden that detail from us until now so that our ‘sophisticated’ human wisdom didn’t come into play to reason our way out of obedience! Ha! It would have been all too easy to close the door knowing that we had a logical escape!
Darwin and I along with our two girls suddenly began laughing uncontrollably as we rejoiced in God’s wisdom, which is so much better than our own. Well, I guess we would be getting the books for the 9th-grade level of our homeschool program! We continued laughing. Genesis would participate in all the normal extracurricular, spiritual and academic activities we offer with our 40+ students who are 1st-8th grade, but just with slightly different books! Our Father certainly has a good sense of humor!
So the next day we shared the news of Genesis’ arrival with the rest of our clan during a family meeting, and then Darwin and our kids were off to an afternoon outing at the local river. Sandra, whose disappearance I had written about several weeks ago, would be going with them.
The next morning, the news of Genesis’ pending arrival still very fresh on our hearts, our eldest daughter Dayana began chit-chatting with me in our large, open-air kitchen as we were serving breakfast. I asked her how the river outing had gone the day before with her dad and siblings, and she began telling me all the grand tales of adventure and fun. So-and-so climbed up to the top of a large boulder-sized rock to jump off, the other one scraped their knee, and several local classmates who study at the Living Waters Ranch had come along to join in the ruckus.
As our conversation was coming to a close, she glanced over at me and added casually, “Yeah, and Sandra told me she’ll be moving back in with us in a few days.”
Jaw to the floor. (I suppose that happens to me quite frequently.) My mouth gaping wide open, I began sputtering, “Wh– what? S-s-? Sandra’s moving back in? She told you this?” I couldn’t get my footing! Father God, throw me a bone!
My mind began rapidly searching itself for connections, trying to make sense of this breaking news. I knew that Darwin had sat down with Sandra and her mom a few weeks ago to talk cold-turkey about Sandra’s poor decision-making and current vulnerability in our corrupt rural neighborhood, extending the invitation for her to come stay with us on a short-term basis as a way of deepening her spiritual roots, having more direct contact and counsel with us and eliminating all contact with rogue neighbors, but Sandra’s seemed disinterred in Darwin’s proposal at the time and, as far as I could tell, had turned it down completely.
Dayana continued, not too thrown off by my bewildered expression (I suppose she sees it quite frequently), “Yeah, she feels that the temptations in the neighborhood are very strong right now, and she wants to take you and Dad up on your offer to be more protected during this time.”
My initial reaction was that of offense, for I felt wronged that Sandra had communicated more fully with our daughter than with me, but then, throwing my ego with all of its limitless demands to one side, I just sat back and allowed myself to laugh again, knowing that God’s plans are always better than our own. Not 8 kids — nor even 9 with the unexpected arrival of Genesis! — but rather 10. Ten! If our house wasn’t full already, it was about to be with 12 inhabitants, including my husband and I.
Over the following days my husband and I confirmed the details with Sandra and her mom, sitting down to pray and seek God’s will together as we came to the decision that Sandra would be staying with us for two months. Due to her mom’s work schedule, Sandra had been home alone frequently, which led to her easily falling into temptation due to the lack of adult supervision and support. Sandra’s mom, a devout Christian, wanted what was best for Sandra but was unable to provide the firm boundaries and disciplinary structure Sandra desperately needed, so we would be coming alongside their family once more to serve as a sort of spiritual and emotional life support for her during this time of great vulnerability.
And so we are at peace. Sandra moved back in two days ago, and thus far the process of recovering innocence — of remembering Father God’s love and submitting herself to His perfect will — is moving along quite joyfully. She’s back in her old room with our teen daughters, and we tuck her into bed each night. She returned to our discipleship-based high school after having struggled with wanting to drop out, and during her first week of classes she’s performed as one of the best students.
As for Genesis, she is on her way today. Darwin is scheduled to pick her and her mom up from the bus station this evening. We rejoice in the Lord at all times, and give thanks to Him for stretching us into these uncertain realms of hospitality to the least likely. Please pray with and for us during these times of transition and growth, and let us give thanks to God for granting us the privilege of being used by Him.
Hidden Treasures: Seeking the Kingdom of God in Honduras 