A few days ago in the late afternoon I was in our bedroom folding clothes and putting away loose papers as I eavesdropped on little Gabriela and Josue’s conversation through our open windows. Immediately outside of two of our windows lies our front porch, from which typically come shouts of joy and squeals and too-loud play on the five hammocks we’ve strung up.
On this occasion, rather than swinging somewhat mindlessly on the hammocks and shouting greetings to me through the window, roughly 7-year-old Gabriela was carefully instructing Josue (who is her age but suffers several developmental disabilities most likely due to abuse in his infancy) that they were to play ‘Ma and Pa.’
Gabriela, our little popcorn kernel who’s been in our home since July 2015, toying with the shore on a recent family trip to a local beach
Thrilled to hear that she was using her imagination and likewise intrigued at how ‘Ma and Pa’ would play out, I kept folding and putting away clothes with one ear very intentionally tuned in to the little drama that was unfolding just yards away.
As their voices faded in and out, I could hear her coaching Josue on how they would prepare dinner for the kids, and then she told him that it was time to put the kids to sleep. I focused hard through other distracting noises – dogs outside, other kids moving about, etc – to hear how her view of bedtime would play out in her make-believe (yet very real) world, especially when she thought no one else was listening.
‘Ma’ Gabriela said to ‘daughter’ Gabriela: “Ok, Gabriela, time to go to sleep. We will pray with you and sing for you.”
My heart smiled because that is, in fact, what we do with her nearly every night.
Then: “We love you.”
In Spanish (which is the language my husband, kids and I communicate in) there are two different forms of “I love you.” There is a much more commonly used form that can be used in friendships and not-so-intimate relationships (Te quiero), and then there is the much more personal form that is very rarely used because (in my opinion) it is so powerful (Te amo). Darwin and I use the more powerful version with one another and with our kids to communicate God’s intensely personal love for them, but even our kids do not typically respond with the stronger version but rather the more ‘tame’ love. For example, I’ll say: “Good night, Dayana. I (strong, deep) love you,” and she’ll respond joyfully: “I (less intense, more common) love you, too, Ma.” I think only two or three times in these two years of parenting one of our kids has said that they love anyone (among siblings, other family members, to Darwin and I, etc) using the stronger version, and even then it was written in a card rather than spoken because (I imagine) it just seems too risky.
So that afternoon as I eavesdropped on Gabriela’s ‘theater’ of her own reality, the power of her statement to ‘herself’ almost took my breath away, because she used the almost-forbidden-because-it’s-so-strong version of “I love you,” which is the version we use with her but that I have never heard leave her lips before. On a normal day she’ll follow me around the house proclaiming, “I love you, Ma!” with the less-intense version, and I’ll stop and give her hugs or kisses or pick her up and then she’ll keep on professing her ‘love’ for me, but always with the friendly, less-personal version of love.
So when I heard her innocent play-time “I love you,” my heart sunk into a deep pool of gratitude, my thoughts immediately swept up in: She knows. She really knows – understands – that we love her. Thank you, Lord. Amidst all of our trials with her, the times when she wants to sit in my lap but it’s already occupied by someone else, the times when my attitude screams impatience or when I feel inadequate to meet her many, many needs – even amidst all the discipline and correction, she really, really knows. Thank you, Lord. Please keep showing her Your love for her through us, however imperfect we are. We love her because You do. Thank you.
When you’ve got enough daughters to start making a legitimate human pyramid, you know you’re in a class of your own…
Cheers to Dayana (15), Jackeline (12), Gleny (11), Josselyn (11) and Gabriela (7). We adore these five daughters of the King and are astonished at the magnitude of the good work the Lord has begun in each of their lives in such a short time.
I think the three on the bottom finally understood the benefits of all the pushups, frog-jumps and wind-sprints I tend to make them do…We were preparing for this:
The Great Pyramid of Daughters
(with the help of one faithful dad)…
After having taken these pictures on a family outing to the beach this past Saturday, I reflected with my husband on the symbolism of these photos that jumps out at me: the three on the bottom of the pyramid, who have all been with us 1-2 years, serve as the sturdy base for the newer building blocks — the two biological sisters on top who’ve been with us 6 months. And, as is the case in our daily rhythms of life, Gabriela is the one who needs constant help, support and encouragement, so it is suiting that in the photos Darwin is physically holding her up. Furthermore, it is noteworthy that Darwin — a man — is the one present to help them build their structure, as is Father God in all of our lives. After having been abused, abandoned and mistreated by other father figures in their lives, finally a man with God’s own heart is placed alongside of them to hold them up as Father God continues to strengthen them — each person in their correct place, working together to keep one another from falling — according to His good will…
And, of course, there is struggle and laughter throughout the journey…
[This is the same list that was published in our January 2016 printed newsletter.]
In similar fashion to the list made roughly a year ago as I looked back over the year 2014, I recently sat down to scribble what I could remember about the year 2015, taking time to give thanks for everything from anniversaries to unforeseen struggles, from growth to sickness, from new initiatives to new sons and daughters, and all that lies in between. Below is our little list that summarizes our walk with the Lord during this past calendar year.
We celebrated our 2-year anniversary with Dayana (15), Gleny (11) and Jason (8), biological siblings who were the first of seven to begin moving into our home roughly four months after Darwin and I were married in 2013.
2. In January Darwin, the three aforementioned siblings, and I traveled to the southern extremity of Honduras (roughly 9+ hours away) on a water project to share the good news of Christ alongside of our faith community for a week in a rural town, fulfilling a goal of ours to serve as a family in a short-term mission.
I returned for another water project/faith mission in November to continue visiting homes and sharing the good news of Christ in a different southern village.
Jackeline (age 11) and her special-needs brother Josue (age 6) moved into our home in January for what was supposed to be 3-4 months, but due to their biological mother’s instability are still with us almost a year later and, amidst many trials, are thriving.
Darwin’s neighborhood youth choir grew and stabilized, averaging between 20-25 youth in its first full calendar year of existence, four of which have come to accept the Lord through their relationship with us. The choir held three public music concerts in our home/mission (the Living Waters Ranch) for our neighbors in addition to having travelled to a local mall, school and nursing home to give free concerts.
In September we began hosting a weekly community lunch and Bible study in our dining room, receiving 30-35 people each Wednesday ages 5-70+, including several married couples. We will begin holding this Bible study two days a week instead of one beginning in January 2016 due to the fruit we’ve seen in this effort to proclaim the Truth.
Mr. and Mrs. Santos, neighbors who attend Bible study and whose cows frequent our property to graze
Josselyn (age 10) and her younger sister Gabriela (age 6) moved into our home in July after having been rescued out of two distinct situations of sexual abuse, and both have adapted exceptionally well to the rhythms of family life.
Jackeline (now 12) and Josselyn (10) came to profess faith in Jesus Christ.
Josselyn entered homeschool in August on the kindergarten level (due to the fact that her biological family had never put her in school) and went from not knowing her ABCs to being able to read and write coherently on a basic level in 5 months.
The eldest of the children the Lord has placed in our home to love and guide as sons and daughters, Dayana, turned 15 years old and graduated 6th grade, finishing her ‘elementary’ studies and transitioning into Honduran high school (7th grade), which is a big step that many Hondurans do not reach.
Gleny (age 11) and Jason (age 8), Dayana’s two younger biological siblings, entered a private Christian elementary school for the first time after having been homeschooled during their first year with us, and both passed their grade with an average of 78% after many, many trials. They will be entering 5th and 3rd grade, respectively, in February 2016.
We received 10 illiterate youth from our rural neighborhood into our 3-day-per-week school program, and we finished the year with 3 of them still standing after the other 7 dropped out due to extreme irresponsibility and bad choices.
On a chance encounter in a local high school, we met Miss Martha, a middle-aged Honduran Christian who since June has been laboring alongside of us 5 days per week as our nurse, cook, and general caretaker of the littlest kids.
Miss Martha’s daughter, Isis, who is in her early twenties, began laboring alongside of us three days per week in August as our elementary school teacher, and our relationship with her has blossomed such that she has begun to work with us five days per week as of January 2016.
Miss Martha, our nurse and cook, along with her husband, daughter (Isis, our elementary school teacher) and Isis’ daughter, Isabella. All three adults have been of tremendous support, friendship and encouragement as brothers and sisters in Christ.
We received two married couples from the States in our home for a week to share testimonies and support the Lord’s work among us.
Sharing testimonies on the porch with Kim and Jim Liffick from Texas
Our eldest daughter, Dayana, began teaching music lessons with Darwin in a local high school one day per week and directing the beginner-level recorder class at the Living Waters Ranch for a small group of young neighbors.
We hired part-time help with cleaning and maintenance due to necessity.
We have lost contact with Brayan (the young man who lived in our home for 8 months in 2014 and who continued to be like a son to us after having moved out) since August. [After writing this list in early January he actually came to visit us unexpectedly and is doing very well.]
We have continued weekly participation in our faith community’s Discipleship Group every Sunday, and the 7 kids/youth the Lord has placed in our family have been present and participated each time we go.
Darwin and I celebrated two years of marriage in June.
After almost three years of being processed by lawyers and government officials, more steps were taken toward the (hopefully close) reality of receiving my Honduran residency status.
Currently several years into my battle with insomnia, sleeping on average 2-4 nights per week, all treatments (including weekly acupuncture, IVs, injections, and prescription and natural sleeping aids) were discontinued in June. No change – whether positive or negative – has been noted since then, seeing as I still spend the majority of nights wide awake, which leads to exhaustion, irritability, migraines and physical weakness almost every day.
Our eldest daughter, Dayana, began taking violin lessons, and continues in piano, recorder, and voice.
Our two young cows gave birth to healthy calves, one male and one female, and Darwin milked both mommas every morning so that we didn’t have to buy milk and certain cheese products at the grocery store. We have also been able to bless several neighbors and our faith community with raw, organic milk on many occasions.
A relationship was established with a local supermarket to receive surplus goods for free 1-4 times per month, depending on availability.
I had extended bouts with Dengue Fever, two strains of Typhoid Fever, several undiagnosed tropical fevers, two ear infections, and strep throat.
Many, many (many) mistakes were made and learned from.
28. I celebrated three years of living in Honduras in June.
I travelled to the States in June for the first time in two-and-a-half years to visit with many individuals and churches to share the testimony of the Lord’s work in and through us.
A local family moved to a small house on our property in September in order for their four school-aged children to attend our school. The father works as the night-watchman, and the mother is involved in our weekly Bible study and helps out as a volunteer in our kitchen.
Miss Carminda (center) along with 6 of her children, 4 of which are students in our school and all of which are involved in various capacities in the mission. This is the family that lives on our property with us and whose father (who is not present in the photo) is the night watchman.
Another year was joyfully spent without air-conditioning, hot water, television, a washing machine, dishwasher or internet in our home.
Many parenting books were read and put into practice, at times with surprising efficacy and at others with quite a few stumbles along the way.
I held a Biblically-based sex education class for 16 women in our rural community ages 10-32, two of which are single moms.
The vision was received and concrete steps taken to add a ‘secondary’ section onto our ‘elementary’ school in the Living Waters Ranch’s education building. Announcements were made in two local elementary schools, candidates were interviewed, a meeting with the parents was held, and the 7th-grade teacher’s contract was written and signed. Orientations and classes will begin in February 2016.
Four neighbors of ours (the children of the night watchman, ages 15, 14, 11 and 8) learned how to read, write and do basic math for the first time in their lives in our school program along with attending weekly Bible study, agriculture classes, and participating in Darwin’s choir and recorder lessons.
Our two eldest daughters participated in weekly art classes the majority of the calendar year, culminating in a public art exposition in the nearby city of La Ceiba in December.
Many limits and norms were created and put into practice among our family and our many neighbors who frequent the Living Waters Ranch for school, Bible study, work projects, play, counsel or prayer, choir and music lessons, etc, so as to achieve greater focus, efficiency and respect.
Close to a dozen youth were employed each Monday morning (the majority of whom also participate in Darwin’s choir, Bible study, our school, etc) in supervised agricultural work projects.
A leadership-focused class I teach for 4th-6th graders a the local Episcopal School was given weekly from January-May with an event for my students and their families held in our home/mission at the culmination of the school year.
40. Darwin turned 32 years old; I turned 25.
Several messages were taught during the high-schoolers’ ‘church’ time in the local Episcopal School from January-May.
We acquired a new lawyer, with whom we have advanced considerably in a rather sticky legal situation we are in with government taxes, reports, property declarations, etc, that have not been processed since before the passing of the Living Waters Ranch’s founder, Teresa Devlin, in 2012.
Our office/storage room has been moved from the school building to the hospitality house and considerably organized in order to make room for the new 7th grade classroom.
We took a trip to Tegucigalpa, the country’s capital and biggest metropolitan city with over a million inhabitants that lies 7+ hours from our home, with the three siblings (Dayana, Gleny and Jason) to visit the big national university, go to a zoo, explore a mountaintop, and celebrate our 2-year anniversary together as family.
Josue (currently age 7) entered a special needs school in June and, even amidst many, many difficulties with transportation to get him to and from his school that lies 30+ minutes from our home, he attended classes from June until classes ended in late November, improving his overall conduct, sociability, and basic lifeskills.
Many, many parent-teacher meetings were attended between Gabriela and Josue’s special needs school and Jason and Gleny’s Christian elementary school.
47. Gabriela entered into Josue’s same pre-school level class due to developmental delays that she incurred through severe abuse. She attended five days per week from September onward, quickly becoming the teacher’s ‘assistant.’ She’s learned the colors and has put into practice many common manners that she didn’t have before!
Healthy relationships have been intentionally cultivated with several local families.
Miss Alma (center), who labors alongside us and who actively participates in Bible study, with her husband, 4 of her children and grandson. Her three boys are being discipled by Darwin, participate in the youth choir, and will be entering our school in February 2016
Our three beloved guard dogs died in a tragic accident, and a few months later were replaced with a Rottweiler, German Shepherd mix, and a Hound mix.
The last of our laying chickens and ducks were given away to neighbors after several devastating robberies, and our large chicken shed was converted into a stable for Darwin’s cows.
The small vegetable gardens that Darwin and the local youth cultivate in agriculture classes gave small harvests of radishes and cucumbers after several difficulties, including bad soil or bad seeds, droughts, etc.
Our dear sister Jenae Matikke moved out of our home/mission in August after having labored alongside of us almost two years. She has begun working alongside of a couple pastors in the nearby city of La Ceiba.
Darwin, four of our seven children, and myself were granted the grace of fasting as a family in obedience to God towards the end of the calendar year.
Monthly budgets, plans, and goals were written, altered, expanded, and re-written several times.
Many, many conflicts, explosive situations, and emotional encounters among our 7 kids were confronted, prayed and talked through, and dealt with for God’s glory. I can honestly say that we are currently experiencing a season of peace in our household!
86 blog posts were written on our site www.HiddenTreasuresinHonduras.wordpress.com with the purpose of encouraging others with the proclamation of the Lord’s Truth in and through us.
34 blog posts were written on our Spanish blog site to encourage Spanish speakers in the same way.
Our 7 kids have enjoyed thoroughly good health, save several bouts with lice, numerous fungus infections that are common in our tropical climate, and Gabriela’s broken collarbone.
Fighting lice the fun way… with mayonnaise!
Our 8-year-old Jason discovered a passion for reading, which is extremely uncommon in this culture and especially for someone his age. Many of the teenage youth who frequent our home cannot even read a complete sentence, while Jason devours books on science, the Bible, and general kids’ literature in his free time.
About halfway through the year Darwin began discipling a group of 4-8 teen and pre-teen boys every Wednesday morning, training them physically in activities like long-distance running, soccer, and swimming, along with reading God’s Word with them and discussing themes like sexual purity, God’s will for their lives, etc.
I died my hair black in May, as did many light-haired women in our area, in response to a conflict between two rivalry gangs that led to the killing of some women with light-colored hair.
The situation with our absentee trashman was finally fixed after roughly 2-3 months of not getting our trash picked up by anyone, and we now currently have a good relationship with another local man who comes to our home weekly to empty our big trash bin.
Many, many hours were dedicated to the reading of God’s Word with our 7 children plus those from our local community.
Our sister Kailin Craft reading the Word with our son Jason when she and her husband came to visit in Spring 2015
64. Our 2001 Toyota Tacoma cab-and-a-half pickup truck survived its first full year with us after monthly visits to the ‘doctor’ (the mechanics), and transported many kids to and from school, art classes, music concerts, meetings, etc.
This is a light load — sometimes we travel with 20-25 people!
Seeing as our 7 kids/teens are currently on their school vacation, each day they have about 4-6 ‘homework’ assignments from me to keep them occupied and growing. The tasks to be completed typically include a few chapters from the Bible, 1-4 hours of musical practice, several pages in their math/Spanish workbooks, physical exercises, creative writing prompts, etc. A few days ago I assigned 2 pages of free-writing to our older kids, instructing them to write whatever they wanted as long as they blessed me with good grammar.
Without working together, two of our preteen girls (Jackeline, 12 and Gleny, 11), both of which will be entering 5th grade at the beginning of a new Honduran school year next month, wrote on the same subject: “What I Want to do when I Grow Up.” Although their lists were much longer that what is included on this post, here are some of their independent thoughts on what they want for their futures…
Jackeline (age 12):
I want to marry Derbin [a young teen in choir and Bible study with her whom she’s had a crush on for the last several months]. I’m being realistic.
I want to have children and be a good mom.
I want to know God more.
I want to meet my biological dad.
I want my children to sleep in bunk beds.
I want my husband to work on a boat.
I want to wash my clothes by hand.
I want to adopt two children.
I want a blue house.
I want my husband to wear elegant clothes except when he’s going to play because I know it’s my job to wash out all those stains.
I want my husband to have hair.
I want to work in a hospital.
I want to teach my children about God, and I want them to pray with me.
I want to help a school.
I want to go to a museum.
I want to be able to spend alone time with Derbin, or whoever my husband is if it’s not him.
Gleny (age 11):
I want to be a stay-at-home mom.
I want to go to Russia or Italy.
I want to marry the man the Lord would have for me.
I want to go to church.
I want my house to be in total silence at night.
I want for there to be no telephones, computers, etc, at dinnertime.
I want those in my household to watch only one hour of television per day.
I want my husband to be Christian and to be a child of God.
I want to have a job like artist, restaurant worker, beautician, lawyer, or PE teacher.
I want that by 5:00pm all work must be done and put away for the day. [This is a new rule that Darwin and I have for ourselves in our household.]
I want my sons/daughters to go to the same school that I go to (Children of the Light elementary school) if it still exists.
I want my children to get married when they are 21 years old.
I want my husband and I to have time together to talk, watch movies, and go on dates. [This is something that Darwin and I strive to do at least a couple time per week.]
I want my children to have respect for other people and among themselves.
I don’t want my husband to have any vices.
I want my family to be strengthened by the right hand of God.
I want there to be complete peace in my household.
I want there to be sincerity among us if God permits it.
At the end of Gleny’s rather long list, she included a spontaneous written prayer:
Father, you are the King, the All-Powerful, the Worthy, the Faithful. You have never told me that you do not want me in your Kingdom with you. Forgive all of my sins and all the many things that I have done with someone or something. Thank you for forgiving me, Father. Amen.
In October I wrote of our current period of discernment with Jackeline (age 12) and her special-needs brother Josue (age 7) who have been living with us since January 29th of last year. We will celebrate our 1-year anniversary with them next Friday as we continue to discern the Lord’s plans for their lives – whether we are to be their long-term family or whether they are to return to a blood relative.
Several weeks ago I had a long meeting with their biological mother and a psychologist from Honduras’ child protective agency to try to hash through the details of whether the mom is (or will be any time soon) ready to receive her children again. To make a long story short, she’s not. We do, however, maintain a very positive and mutually supportive relationship with her, and last month on the kids’ once-a-month visit day with their biological family members, we invited her to a local beach with all 9 of us (Darwin, the 7 kids, and I). It was such a blessing that we can have a ‘family outing’ of such a mixed sort but still with so much joy, love, and encouragement.
Jackeline and Josue days after moving in with us in January 2015:
And more recently:
Jackeline has had a genuine turn-around in her general attitude and work ethic, although she failed to pass fifth grade again when she earned a grade of 18% on her final exam in December. She is currently preparing to take the entrance exam into Gleny and Jason’s private Christian school where, if she is accepted, would be one of 11-year-old Gleny’s classmates in her fifth-grade class.
Overall, we are incredibly content with the situation with Jackeline and Josue even though on paper it all looks pretty messy and uncertain. Jackeline has been spending a lot of time each day reading the Scriptures during these weeks of school vacation, and she’s been spending 2-4 hours per day practicing piano, recorder, and voice with our eldest, Dayana. She’s participating weekly on the girls’ basketball team I coach in the nearby city of La Ceiba, and she’s taken on the role of ‘tutor’ for little Gabriela two afternoons a week, coaching her in guided activities like Play-Doh, building blocks, physical exercises, and coloring books.
Just yesterday Jackeline found me behind our house as I was washing our clothes in a big bucket and began sharing her heart with me for over an hour, which is not typical of her. She told me that she is extremely content living with us, but at the same time she feels a responsibility to return to her biological family someday to be able to teach them all that she is currently learning. She also mentioned with serenity that, after having suffered child obesity due to her mother’s compulsive feeding of her two children, she has now learned that “food is not [her] god,” and that, although years ago she felt urges to kill either her brother or herself, she now knows that God has a purpose for both of them as His children.
Josue is as joyful as ever, and his behavior has improved to such a degree that living with him is (generally) a privilege and blessing. He still wears diapers and can only pronounce a handful of one- or two-syllable words, but he continues five mornings per week in his special needs school, where he receives very individualized attention in a class of 3-5 students.
Please pray that we may focus on living one day at a time with them, loving and guiding them moment-to-moment for God’s glory, for that is all we can do with any of them.
We thought he was dead. Or had surely gotten a girl or two pregnant. Or possibly in prison or roaming the streets after a series of foolish decisions had finally led him to a very real destruction.
But he was standing there at our front gate.
I had been folding laundry in our bedroom when one of our wild hooligans out on the porch called, “Brayan’s here.” The brown shirt I was folding fell out of my suddenly numb hands as my legs turned on autopilot and began to take me in the least amount of steps possible out our front door, across our porch and large front lawn to that still, red-shirted figure waiting motionless on the other side of our chainlink gate.
Three or four well-intentioned huggers tried to greet and derail me in route to that gate, but I saw them as nothing more than a blur as tears began to choke out all else. There’s no way.
Just about 10 minutes prior my husband had mentioned as casually as someone mentions that the garbage man swung by: “Oh, Brayan came by the front gate this afternoon while you were in the office.”
All the blood had drained from my face while my mind frantically tried to make sense of Darwin’s words so confused by his monotony. “Wha–?” He’s not dead. Why would he come? How is he? My words tried to catch up with my brain: “What time? Why didn’t you come get me?” My mouth literally laid agape as words escaped me and a great sorrow overtook me for having missed his visit.
My sweet husband who knows all the trials that boy has put us through in the last two years – him living with us as our constantly wayward and rebellious yet precious and dearly loved son for 8 months then moving out, coming back part-time as our student and live-in-a-different-house-son-who-is-still-highly-involved-in-our-family-life, then disappearing altogether in August 2015 – just stared at me blankly, probably as taken aback at my emotional reaction as I was to his laissez-faire approach.
Unable to form his words, Darwin’s eyes read: “I’m so sorry. I was trying to protect your heart. Surely you get that, don’t you?” while my heart pled: “How is he? Why didn’t you come get me? I was only in the office and had no idea…How could you possibly think that I wouldn’t want to see him?”
Darwin picked up his cellphone and quickly dialed Brayan’s stepbrother, Arlen, who is a very close friend of ours and with whom Brayan had come earlier that afternoon. After a short conversation, Darwin asked Arlen if Brayan would be available to come back to our home for a second time that day. He gave Brayan the message, and he apparently left immediately on his bike because he arrived not five minutes later.
So as I’m crossing the front lawn, tears welling up in my eyes and my face probably contorted into the terrible shape that any parent’s face would hold upon the return of their prodigal son, he called out in a soft voice, probably wondering how I would react: “Hola, Ma.”
The next few seconds I do not remember – if he opened the gate to let himself in or if I opened it for him – but suddenly he was in my embrace as I was in his and I no longer cared that I was crying. As my chest heaved and I held him, I said, “We love you so much, Brayan,” and suddenly Darwin was walking up behind me and we were hugging him sandwich-style, which is something we do with all of our kids.
He didn’t let go, didn’t pull away, and didn’t laugh nervously. All three of us just stood there, three small people embracing with a love that cannot be explained nor defended lest we recognize it is of God at the entrance to some remote property on the foothills of some mountain range in some forgotten country begotten with violence and poverty while the rest of the world spun on without us for those few moments.
He’s so tall; Darwin’s only got a couple inches on him now. He no longer fits comfortably under my chin. He’ll be 16 in July. Where is he living? Is he okay? How does he feel to be in our home again – did we end on a bad note? I can’t really remember. All I can remember is seeing him roaming aimlessly around the gravel roads of our town so many months ago, seeing him with that teenage girl in the miniskirt on the back of his bike back in July. Why did he come? Oh, I praise you, God, that he is alive. Thank you for bringing him home. Our son is home. Thank you, Lord.
My tears came and went during our visit as we quickly invited him into the hospitality house to sit down and receive him. We talked easily and dynamically with him for the next 45 minutes or so about anything and everything. He carried himself with a certain maturity that he had never before possessed, and on several occasions he belly-laughed with his big, childish grin, betraying an innocence and exuberant joy that I assumed had been long lost.
He is living with his biological mother and stepfather in the town next to ours and is working in a local mechanic shop washing cars and helping in whatever capacity he has been trained. His four younger half-siblings live in the home with him, and he shares a bedroom with his step-grandmother, “each one with their own bed.” He likes to go fishing on the sea in his freetime with his step-dad.
Hoping we had not lost all of our parent-child bond, I asked in a motherly way that has become surprisingly natural to me over these past two years if he has a girlfriend, and he laughed heartily and said, “No. I don’t get into things like that. I’m not ready to support a woman…” and my heart rejoiced. He goes to church with two teenage male friends of his, mentioning that he doesn’t have more friends because “the other guys who live near me are just into bad stuff, and I don’t want to participate in that because I’m walking with Christ.”
The thought that consumed all others in my little brain that was still recovering from this wonderful form of shock was this: The hand of God is upon him. The hand of God is upon him! The Lord has heard us; he hears us, and he hears Brayan. There is no other explanation for why this young man has not fallen into absolute tragedy and despair. The hand of God is so clearly, so tangibly upon him. This is one of God’s miracles.
This sense of total awe at the goodness of God consumed me for the duration of our visit and long afterward. We encouraged Brayan in his walk with Christ and prayed with him, all three of us holding hands with heads bowed in our hospitality house’s humble living room while, once again, the rest of the world seemed to keep on spinning without us. He asked for prayer for his stepfather’s alcoholism, his mother’s chest pain, his step-grandfather’s neck tumor and his own walk with the Lord, that he would be guided into the light and not be separated from God’s will. As we prayed together, I felt the presence of the Lord in a way that I had not in some time.
At some point as he sat on our hand-me-down sofa he smiled mischeviously and said: “Recognize these boots?” I glanced down at his extremely worn-down black combat boots, let out a loud, genuine laugh and said, “Your boots! You still have them! Look at you – I’m so proud that you’ve taken care of them.” They were the same boots we had bought him about a year ago, and this was the same boy who used to lose or destroy any and all clothing, shoes, books, backpacks, etc, within a blink of an eye of receiving it.
After our long catch-up chat and then our time of prayer, it only seemed natural to invite Brayan to stay for dinner. With his sheepish grin he accepted, and we headed over to our open-air dining room that used to be his own. I put the rice and beans and leftover pasta on the stove and began pouring glasses of Darwin’s fresh cows’ milk for everyone. I even got out popsicles from the freezer that had been donated by a local grocery store; this was an extremely special day.
I glided around our muggy kitchen as he and Darwin sat at our large wooden dining room table, probably talking about guy stuff. Our 7-year-old Gabriela came in to help me serve the plates, we rang the little apple-shaped dinner bell, and everyone came barreling in from hand-washing their clothes and doing 57 other things. Brayan’s face radiated joy, and he looked like he felt at home. Well, he was.
Over dinner he talked more than I remember him talking before, and his posture and attitude gave off a sense of maturity, a precious gratefulness, and an undeniable respect that certainly were not with him before, or at least had not been as developed. He never broke eye contact; he talked easily, openly and coherently. He reminisced with our 7 kids, especially Dayana, our eldest who is his age and with whom he has the most memories, about funny happenings or lessons learned from the ‘early years’ (which was only two years ago) with us at the Living Waters Ranch.
So night fell, we did dinner clean-up, Brayan laughed as he witnessed an ‘attack-Dad’ tickle fight, and then we walked him back to the front gate and gave him another big hug to book-end the visit that profoundly encouraged us in a way that perhaps nothing before then had. He hopped on his bike, making plans with Darwin to go play soccer the next afternoon with our kids while he’s on ‘vacation’ from his job at the mechanic shop, but my heart neither leapt with expectation nor scoffed with doubt as he rode off into the night.
Our 11-year-old fireball, Gleny – who used to actively persecute Brayan during the first year or so that he was in our lives — jumped up into my arms and shouted off to Brayan in the night: “Goodnight, Brayan!” He answered back over his shoulder as I stood with Gleny in my arms under the dark night sky speckled with a million pinpricks of light in total awe: The hand of God is over Brayan.
We certainly have been spending several hours per day in dining-room tutoring with our 5 older kids as Gabi and Josue enjoy constructing block towers on the floor. All our kids will return to school in early February (the Honduran calendar has the extended vacation during the winter rather than summer months).
Only a few weeks ago Gabi didn’t have the focus or creativity to sit and put two blocks on top of each other, but with a little practice and encouragement, look at the small empire she and Josue have built!
Dayana (15), Gleny (11) and Jason (8) celebrated their 2-year anniversary in our household during a family vacation with Darwin and I to Honduras’ capital and largest city, Tegucigalpa.
8-year-old Jason, our beloved opera singer, our inquisitive young mind, our make-you-pee-in-your-pants stand-up comic, our consistent gentleman, our Energizer bunny, and our Godly-man-in-training
The kids aren’t the only ones who enjoy climbing trees!
“Ready, Jason?” “Ready, Dad!”
(From left to right): myself, Gleny, Darwin and Dayana at the zoo in Tegucigalpa with Jason as the photographer
At a national park above the capital of Tegucigalpa. I’m sure their schoolteachers are glad to have a break until February from these two rabble-rousers!
Back on the homefront at the Living Waters Ranch, Miss Carminda and Miss Alma had a flour fight in our kitchen!
“Little Miss Claus” (the name I gave her because she looks like Santa Claus’ daughter) playing the recorder in our December music recital in our home/mission. About a year ago she bought that dress at a thrift store for the equivalent of about 50 cents!
Josselyn (age 11, member of our family since July 2015) and Jason (age 8), singing with Darwin’s youth choir in December. It was Josselyn’s first time to participate in the choir’s performances and play the recorder in front of an audience!
Derbin, a 14-year-old neighbor of ours who participates in various activities at the Living Waters Ranch, playing piano in our front yard during his first public music recital.
One day I began trimming the large, leafy trees in front of our dining room when Goliath, our Rottweiler, began playing with the leaves and burying himself under them. That’s when the whole crew came to join in the fun!
If only he would stop walking! We’re trying to tame the beast!
Don’t worry — Miss Martha’s coming in to help!
Good job, Jason! You finally got him just where you wanted him!
Because it was so much fun with the dog, let’s try it with the kids!
Darwin leading the Living Waters Ranch’s youth choir in songs of joy in a local nursing home
Miss Martha, our dear sister and fellow laborer, accompanied the choir to the performance in the nursing home because she had worked there for several years and was excited to see the elderly that she used to take care of
Christian and Arlen, both choir members, handing out juice and homemade bread after the recital
12-year-old (quite immature) Jackeline answering my question as to whether she wants almost-11-year-old (extremely mature) Josselyn to attend church with her and the local family whom she goes with on Saturday evenings: “I don’t think so, because I don’t know if she’ll obey me in church.”
Three of our kids with Goliath, our Rottweiler
One day as my husband Darwin and I crossed paths in front of the schoolhouse on our property, he came over and gave me a peck on the cheek. Our 6-year-old popcorn kernel Gabriela, who was standing up on a wooden swing a few yards off, saw us, although we thought nothing of it. As Darwin kept walking in one direction and I headed over to say hi to Gabriela, she blurted: “Ain’t dat right dat he’s yo bofen?”
We all know that her pronunciation of many words is catastrophically terrible, but in this instance I literally didn’t have any clue what she was saying. I asked: “What? What’s ‘bofen’?”
She pointed with a finger to where Darwin had walked off to, and say, “He’s yo bofen.”
I finally realized that she was saying her version of ‘boyfriend,’ and I laughed and said, “No, Gabriela, he’s my husband, that’s like a ‘bofen’ for life.”
Gleny (age 11) giving Gabriela (age 6) a ride around our front yard
As I held 12-year-old Jackeline’s homeschool exam in my hands, ready to grade it, I saw scribbled across the top of the first page in her handwriting: “God help me [with this exam].” I laughed, well aware that she has not proven herself to be a very good student, and said: “I sure hope He did.” She ended up getting a 95%!
Josue, 7-years-old and with several developmental disabilities, tends to put himself between my husband and I when we get too close, points an irate finger at Darwin and says, “No! Mine!”, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side in a very goofy but determined stance.
The other night when that happened again over dinner, Darwin said simply, “I think I’ll only be able to kiss you for about four more years.”
Me, perplexed: “What? Why’s that?”
Darwin: “Because Josue’ll be pretty big by then and he’ll really have the strength to do me some damage.”
Josue (age 7) and Jason (age 8), our two boys
Over dinner one night, 6-year-old Gabriela who has been living with us roughly 4 months and who is mentally and emotionally 4 years old due to severe abuse, begins shooting off all these questions in her usual loud tone about what grade everyone is in: “Dayana? What gray’s she in?”
Me: “Sixth grade.”
Gabriela: “Ah Dayana’s in sist grade. And Jason?”
And so on, until she had asked all 7 of our kids’ grades more than once, and, to derail the repetetiveness of so many of the conversations she initiates, I asked: “Gabriela, do you know what grade I’m in?”
Without missing a beat, she says with total confidence: “First.”
Our 2001 Toyota Tacoma trucked at about half-capacity
One night as we were doing after-dinner kitchen clean-up, Darwin wanted to give 6-year-old Gabriela a hug or a pat on the back or something along those lines, and she scooted away. He said something about how we all love her and are not going to hurt her, and then asked, “Gabi, do you love me?”
She answered with wide eyes and a big, fake smile: “No.”
Gleny, our 11-year-old daughter who’s been with us over 2 years, came around the corner and asked: “Gabi, you love my mom, don’t you?”
Gabi, without changing her deer-in-the-headlight look, said: “Yes.”
Gleny, exasperated by her new little sister, said, “Gabi, if you love my mom, you also love my dad because they’re like one flesh.”
A couple things that we heavily stress in our day-to-day family life are teamwork and initiative, and a few weeks ago we set aside about an hour or two for each person to really do a good, deep clean of their bedroom and belongings. Our eldest has her own room and is extremely clean and organized, so she had no problems. Our two boys (8-year-old Jason who’s quick as a whip and 7-year-old special needs Josue) share a room, and then our four younger girls (12, 11, 10 and 6) share a room. (I bet you can imagine where the majority of the organizational and emotional chaos is concentrated.)
Over dinner that night the boys and girls were reflecting on how their afternoon went with their roommate(s) in an effort to work together and clean their shared space. The four girls exchanged glances and began telling of tears shed and arguments had (alas, we were there with them to witness it all and help them work through it peacefully), each one still a bit altered after such a dramatic experience, and then out of nowhere 8-year-old Jason pipes up and says: “Oh, Josue and I did awesome! He helped me fold the sheets, and he was in charge of opening the windows and organzing the shoes while I swept and mopped the floor.” Josue, who can only say a handful of 1- or 2-syllable words and wears diapers, sat there with a big toothy grin and pointed at Jason across the table in affirmation that all he said was true.
Many, many people eat from our kitchen and many, many people work together trying to keep it clean!
One night over dinner several weeks ago after 12-year-old Jackeline’s birthday party, I told our kids to guess how many photos I had taken. Each person made their guess somewhere between 11 and 200, but 6-year-old Gabriela didn’t seem to understand what the guessing was all about, so 11-year-old Gleny tells her, expasperated as tends to be her style, “Gabi, just say a number!”
Gabi, looking around at all of us nervously, with a big fake smile says through gritted little teeth: “A number.”
Darwin at the helm of the daily homework routine around our kitchen table
After Gabriela had received a stark behavior report from her pre-school teacher (she attends a special class with only 4 students that serves to meet the psychological needs of special needs and/or children who’ve suffered traumatic pasts) informing us that Gabriela had kicked and thrown herself on the teacher, ate the other kids’ snacks, lied, and screamed that she wouldn’t be obeying anybody, Gabriela came bounding through our front door the following day after class announcing triumphantly, “Mom! Jennifer! I didn’t kick the teacher today!”
Everybody wants to play chess!
11-year-old Gleny tells me she needs to conduct an ‘interview’ with me for some fourth-grade writing assignment at her school. I get excited, put aside what I’m working on, and say, “Okay, shoot.”
Gleny, very professional: “What is your favorite animal?”
Me, utterly disappointed by the (low) quality of the question: “What? Oh…Uh…my favorite animal would have to be…unicorns.” [I laugh nervously, afraid my answer might not be valid.] “Next question?”
Gleny, still very serious: “No; this is the only question. Why is the unicorn your favorite animal?” She’s got her No. 2 pencil in her hand and she’s ready to write down whatever I say.
Me: “Uh…What? You mean you need to know why I love unicorns?” Then, assuming the same serious demeanor as my interviewer, I furrowed my brow and said, “Oh, of course, because they are extremely cuddly.” I was satisfied with my answer and trying not to laugh out loud as she wrote it all down in her wobbly cursive handwriting.
Gleny, looking up at me from her notebook: “Why else?”
Me: “Huh?…Oh, they’re so magical and friendly, too.” Her teacher’s gonna kill me!
Gleny, writing down verbatim my answer: “I need one more reason.”
Me: “They’re…smart?”
Gleny: “Ok, great! Now I’m gonna go interview Dad.”
[Later that afternoon…]
Me to Darwin: “Hey, did Gleny interview you about your favorite animal?”
Darwin: “Yeah, mine’s the tiger.”
Me: “That’s sooo boring…”
Jason in his school uniform. We just received notice that both he and Gleny passed their respective grades after a lot of rough starts and trying days in their first year in their private school!
In a drawing/card that 11-year-old Gleny made for me: “I love you a lot, Mom. God is always with you wherever you go, and where you are in any place. Keep strengthening your commitment to be a mom. May God guide you in the correct place. You are a very good mom. From your daughter, Gleny. It was a pleasure to give you this card.”
A couple nights after having returned from the mission to southern Honduras to install potable water and share God’s Word with a dynamic community of believers, I told Darwin and our seven kids that I wanted to be able to share with them some of what the Lord had taught me during the trip. They agreed, so after a long day we all shuffled into our almost-furnitureless living room after dinner, and I began lighting candles and setting them all over our tile floor. Our kids – several of whom are most likely undiagnosed pyromaniacs – quickly jumped in to ‘help’ with the lighting, and soon enough we had several dozen candles all over our floor as the nine of us took our seats cross-legged in an imperfect circle.
I began, not really sure of what I would say, but eager for the Lord to give me whatever words He wanted us to hear: “Does anyone have any guesses as to why we’ve lit candles instead of simply turning the lights on as usual?”
Jason, our 8-year-old, said, “Light in the darkness! Christ is the light?”
“That’s true, but that’s not the reason…Why the candles? Any other ideas?”
Darwin or our eldest daughter guessed that perhaps the number of candles represented the number of people who came to accept the Lord during our trip, but neither was that the reason.
After several more good guesses, I laughed and said, “It’s simply because in the village where we stayed, they have no electricity. Each night we were in total darkness unless someone turned on a flashlight or lit a candle. A lot of people around the world live like that.”
Each person had their Bible in hand as I began sharing of my experiences in a little mountainous town on the other side of the country where the men work all day on steep mountainsides planting and harvesting corn and beans while the women work over fire stoves to make corn tortillas out of what the men harvest. To enjoy any education after the 6th grade, I was told the villagers have to walk 2 hours down the mountain and then take a 45-minute bus to the closest high school.
As the Lord guided our discussion, we took about 10 minutes so that each person made a list of all the material blessings we as a family experience on a day-to-day basis, from beds with mattresses (rather than hammocks or sleeping on the floor) to having a simple indoor bathroom stall that is far more pleasing to use than a fly-infested outdoor pit latrine, not to mention our milking cows who enjoy our large, grassy property and don’t have to wander around roadsides looking for enough to eat.
It was amazing how each person really ‘got’ what we were writing about, and 8-year-old Jason was the first one to volunteer his list once we were winding down. His list included about 50 things like: windows (more than just a carved-out hole in the wall as many in the world have), sinks (another thing many people don’t have), his towel, his wooden dresser, the great variety of food we have (even though we eat a base of rice and beans 2-3 times per day!), among many other common items we take for granted or even complain about because we compare them with someone who has more than we do.
From there three of our daughters, Darwin, and I shared our lists, all of which were basically the same even though each person wrote theirs individually: a shower (rather than bucket-bathing in the front yard as those in the village where I was had to do), dog food (rather than feeding emaciated dogs with watered-down rice scraps or pieces of tortilla that fall from the table), our kids’ art and music classes, my computer, a car, an electric stove, basically flat roads that can be easily traversed (rather than slippery, extremely steep, rocky trails as were those of the village where I was), real shoes (not just plastic flip-flops), enough ‘extra’ to even be able to share with and bless others, more than one candle (a home I stayed at in the village had but one candle on hand, and when it melted down we were left in darkness), and so on.
From there, each person meditating on all the incredibly simple, taken-for-granted items on their list, we read Philipians 4:12-13:
“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Suddenly, without having planned to do so, I folded up my list of abundance and held it over one of the many little flames that were around me. As my page of notebook paper caught fire, I sensed that several of our kids were exchanging glances with one another, eyes wide, like, “Cool! Mom’s burning things! … Does that mean I get to burn my list too? Whoa!”
I love moments like these, because there’s no traffic in my soul, nothing clogging up the Spirit of God or getting in the way of what the Lord might want to say or do through me. I (although it was not me at all) said, “This is our list of abundance; it is neither good nor bad. Paul says in his letter to the Phillipians that he knows what it is to live in abundance and in want, and in both situations he has discovered the secret of being content: Christ. So for right now – and we must recognize this – we are living in abundance. We may be tempted to look at those who have air conditioning or hot water or television or whatever it is that we don’t have and feel that we really don’t have much at all, but that’s simply not true. We have several toilets, paint on the walls, a refrigerator, everyone is in school, etc – but if some day all those things go away and we enter into ‘want,’ nothing really changes. If there is some world war or the economy crashes or our home catches fire and we are forced to move to a little shack with dirt floors and everything becomes really hard – who knows! – and our season of ‘abundance’ ends, nothing has really changed. All of the things on these lists can be taken away – or added to – and the Truth does not change, is not affected.”
So we burned our lists and a certain appropriate heaviness, the kind that comes with an undeniable understanding of Truth, settled over us and did not leave for several minutes.
“If the Word of God can be proclaimed and go forth in a remote, rocky village where there’s no running water, people bathe in a bucket in plain sight in their front yard, barely have enough calories to keep going and are in utter darkness once the sun sets, we do not need lightbulbs and art classes and pillow cases and doors that keep thieves out. If we are given them, fine. And if they’re taken away, fine; it’s all just abundance, and it’s not necessary for fulfilling God’s purposes or for finding ‘happiness.’ If we lose everything and are forced to hit the streets looking for a new beginning, nothing has really changed.”
From there we went to several other scriptures and meditated on the profundity of God’s love and jealousy for us, for our whole selves and our whole lives. I shared of my conviction to begin visiting homes in our own rural neighborhood perhaps a couple days per month to share God’s Word and pray with the people, and I asked who might be interested in accompanying me to do so. Everyone’s hands went up.
After closing with prayer, we blew out the candles, swept up the ash left behind by the bunt-up lists, turned on the lights with a flick of the switch, and each person went about their business to do homework, take a shower, go swing in a hammock or practice violin while that heavy, beautiful burden of understanding remained hovering over me like a weighty but welcome cloud as I prayed to God that I would never forget, or better yet that when and if the time comes that I would be able to humbly accept the Apostle Paul’s Words that ring with Truth: I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
During the first week in November I went to the department of Choluteca in southern Honduras with a dynamic group of Honduran, American, and ex-Patriat missionary believers to aid a rural village in the installation of a potable water system and to go house-to-house sharing the good news of Christ and praying with the people. Darwin held the fort down at home for the week, and everyone survived! It was truly a growing experience for all involved, and through the trip the Lord has planted the desire in my heart to begin going home-to-home with our children in our own rural neighborhood to share His Word and pray with our neighbors. (All of the photos on this post were taken during the water project).
Doroteo, a Mexican-American who came to Honduras for the water project, sharing his testimony of faith in Jesus with the villagers
Returning from a good hike up the mountain to see the spring that will provide the lengthy system of tubing with its water.
The men of the village will continue working roughly 40-50 more days in rocky, elevated terrain to lay the tubing of their first potable water system.
Two-Year Anniversary as Family
November 1, 2015 marked our two-year anniversary with Dayana (age 15), Gleny (11) and Jason (8), the first sibling group who moved into our family roughly 4 months after my husband and I were married. It has been a mind-boggling journey deeper and deeper into God’s grace, into the riches of His understanding, and into a truly incarnate walk with Him in today’s world. Darwin and I are planning a 2-3 night trip with them to a neighboring city in December to celebrate all the Lord has done in and through us as family in these last two years, and we are looking to begin the legal adoption process in June 2016 once, by Honduran law, we have been married 3 years and are thus valid candidates for adoption. Please continue to pray for our growth and unity in the Spirit, and that the Lord would continue to prepare and equip us as a family for any good work that He may have for us.
Having fun with the village children — the great thing about leaving my 7 at home was that I could be silly with the kids without having to worry about homework assignments, discipline or bedtime routines!I don’t remember what the game was, but it sure was fun…
I think I might have been the tallest kid there…
My competitive side got the best of me…
I still don’t understand why the other kids were so shy about participating…
Update on Legal Situation
A few weeks ago I wrote about the current legal situation we are in the midst of, and I’m here to report that we were able to get everything together within a week to pay the large government fine along with our lawyer fees, and our lawyer is currently working on the case and moving it forward as quickly as possible in a system that is generally bogged-down by tragic inefficiency. Darwin and I have planned to take the 7-hour busride to the capital city of Tegucigalpa (where our lawyer lives and where the majority of the legal jinking and jiving occurs in Honduras) the second week of December to be able to talk face-to-face with her and see the progress of the case. Please continue to pray for this situation as it is not yet resolved, and that the hit to our finances will not affect the stability of the mission the Lord has entrusted to us.
The men from the village and those who came to support the water project praying together before beginning a long day’s work in the trenches
Andy, from Minnesota, sharing his testimony with those present
An elderly man from the village who works alongside the younger men each day on the mountainsides planting, harvesting, and laying the tubing for the water system just to have enough to feed his family
Our pastor/mentor/friend Larry Smoak leading the biblical teaching each evening
New Initiative: Living Waters Ranch High School
After having first received children and youth from our rural neighborhood into our government-registered primary-level homeschool program roughly one year ago, the Lord recently expanded our vision to include a secondary-level section in another room of our Education Building. We currently have 7 students in primary-level (1st-6th grade), 3 of which are kids who live in our home full-time and 4 of which are neighbors of ours in extreme poverty who had not previously had the opportunity to be in a school.
The eldest of the 7 children the Lord has placed in our home as sons and daughters, Dayana, is graduating 6th grade, which is the last grade of elementary school and will be entering 7th grade, which is considered “high school” because there is no middle school in Honduras (in the Honduran system students graduate in November and re-enter in February). After discerning the options for her high school education, Darwin, Dayana and I all felt peace about continuing to educate her in our home/mission for at least the next year or two so that she can continue her musical and artistic studies along with developing the different leadership roles she is taking on.
So, Darwin and I visited the 6th-grade classrooms in two of the local public elementary schools to spread the word about the new high school we will be starting in our small town, and we’re currently weeding through the 40+ candidates, making phone calls to parents, conducting interviews, and organizing informational meetings in the hopes that God reveals between 8-10 students who will be entering into our 7th-grade program alongside of our daughter in February 2016. It is an exciting process, and thus far we have 4 spaces already filled with young teens who are already heavily involved in our weekly Bible study, in Darwin’s choir, agriculture classes, and other activities in our home/mission. Having them in our home 5 days a week, 8+ hours a day will enable us to profundisize our relationship with them and our impact on their lives for God’s glory.
The purpose of the high school is to offer a discipleship-focused alternative to the extremely crowded, low-quality public high school in our town for students who are earnestly open to and seeking to walk with Christ and know his Word, all within a family-like environment that values discipline, integral development, and creative growth. Please pray with us that the Lord would guide us in the process of discerning which/how many students should enter the program, and that this new initiative would meet a felt need for the teenagers of our town who are looking to grow in the Truth.
Just this week after a process of interviewing candidates for the position of “7th-grade teacher” we found the woman who will hold the position alongside of Darwin and I. Praise God!
We’ve purchased new desks/chairs for the incoming students along with a large dry-erase board, and in the coming weeks we will be cleaning out the storage room to prepare the space to be the 7th-grade classroom. There are many decisions to be made, schedules to be created, curriculum to be organized, meetings to be had, student contracts to be written, norms to be established, and lives to be impacted for Jesus, so we ask once again that you would pray with and for us during this time.
A quiet morning before breakfast to reflect and pray
One of the homes from the village in Choluteca, Honduras where we spent the first week of November
Andy, Larry, Joel and I walking through the village with the rest of the group and villagers
Sheri, Adria and I playing “cheerleaders” for the men who were coming in after a long day of digging. We had spent the morning going house-to-house sharing God’s word and praying with the people.
More cheerleading
And still more cheerleading…although we never got around to doing the pyramid as we would have liked…
So all of us, sitting there in our dining room in the foothills of the Honduran mountains, continued the search for the human purpose. How surprising (and tragic!) it is that we can quickly and accurately name the purpose of a pencil or a seed but have no clue as to what our very own life might be good for.
“If I don’t know the purpose of a pencil, I could very easily pitch it into the bonfire as if it were firewood, thus completely sacrificing its actual purpose as a writing utensil, and then I’m left wondering where on earth I could find such a tool that might be used to make visible my thoughts on paper. If I don’t know that my clothes’ purpose is to cover up my body for decency and protection from the elements, I could wad them up and use them as rags to clean the floor and then wonder why I’m naked and cold. Nobody butchers their Rottweiler for dinner or fills their shoes with potting soil because we know their purpose, and that knowledge guides us in how we see these things and how we utilize them.”
Some people began laughing nervously, as if the examples given might just be a little too absurd. What’s absurd? The fact that almost no one understands – and much less fulfills – their purpose as human beings.
I continue, excited to be able to shed a tremendous amount of light on a search that many are confused by their entire lives. “Taking Jesus Christ as our example – literally God made man – let’s see what His purpose was. Maybe that will give us a clue as to our own.”
So about a half dozen people with Bibles started looking up the verses written on the dry-erase board propped up against the wall, and we started reading the verses one after another, young and old, married and single, many of which would hear these words of Jesus’ for the very first time.
(Jesus in John 5:19, 30): “I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does…I can do nothing on my own. I judge as God tells me. Therefore, my judgment is just, because I carry out the will of the one who sent me, not my own will.”
“So Jesus – who is all-powerful, has all wisdom, who had been with God Himself since before the creation of the world – did not say, “I’m here to eat and drink and be merry! Let’s enjoy the good life, folks!” or “My purpose is to acquire weapons and lands and armies and become the most powerful man on the face of the earth!” But rather, he said, “I am here to…?”
(Jesus in John 6:38-39):“For I have come down from heaven to do the will of God who sent me, not to do my own will.And this is the will of God, that I should not lose even one of all those he has given me, but that I should raise them up at the last day.”
Someone from across the oblong rectangle of chairs, stools and benches said in a quiet voice, “…fulfill God’s will.”
“Yes! Jesus’ purpose – which he states time and again – is to fulfill not his own will but that of His Father’s. And we’re talking about Jesus – the man who worked miracles, who was given the power to be raised from the dead! If His purpose was not to glorify Himself, accumulate goods, lands, and earthly power, or have as many wives as possible, or maybe cheat the system to get ahead, who are we to do so?”
Many people’s faces display a look of shock, as if it is offensive to think that God might be greater than man, that even though Jesus emptied Himself so as to be filled with His Father, I-ought-to-have-the-right-to-do-as-I-want-because-I’m-me.
(Jesus in John 7:16-18): “My message is not my own; it comes from God who sent me. Anyone who wants to do the will of God will know whether my teaching is from God or is merely my own.Those who speak for themselves want glory only for themselves, but a person who seeks to honor the one who sent him speaks truth, not lies.”
“And this is not meant to make us feel bad, but rather to liberate us from ourselves! Praise God! The Savior of the world did not come to make Himself great but rather to serve God’s purposes – He is our example of the ultimate human life, our laid-bare purpose as human beings.”
(Jesus in John 8:28-29):“When you have lifted up the Son of Man on the cross, then you will understand that I am he. I do nothing on my own but say only what the Father taught me.And the one who sent me is with me—he has not deserted me. For I always do what pleases him.”
“Many people go off to the university or spend their entire lives ‘finding themselves’ or searching futilely for some ‘purpose’. I know because I’ve tried, and I know a lot of people who are still stuck without their answer either because they haven’t found it or refuse to acknowledge it! It’s like owning a pair of shoes and spending your entire life scratching your head wondering what they might be good for while you walk around barefoot, accumulating blisters and cuts on your exposed feet.”
(Jesus in John 8:49-51):“No, I have no demon in me. For I honor my Father—and you dishonor me.And though I have no wish to glorify myself, God is going to glorify me. He is the true judge.I tell you the truth, anyone who obeys my teaching will never die!”
“What’s the good news in all this? With God’s help, anyone can do this. Anyone can fulfill God’s will, living for His glory rather than their own. Men, women, children, someone in a wheelchair – whether you live in a palace or on the streets in England or India or wherever – even if you’re a slave in chains! – the ultimate human purpose is within your reach. You don’t have to have a certain amount of money or education – and neither are you excluded if you have too much of either.”
People are listening, and I’m praying that they ‘get it,’ that we all ‘get it.’
(Jesus in John 17:3-5): “And this is the way to have eternal life—to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, the one you sent to earth.I brought glory to you here on earth by completing the work you gave me to do.Now, Father, bring me into the glory we shared before the world began.”
“Jesus came as a poor man – his human dad was a carpenter, and he basically spent his days walking from village to village teaching the Truth, no strings attached. He didn’t eat exquisite food all the time, never got married, and we know He didn’t have a college degree. If His purpose was to fulfill not His own will but God’s, seeking to bear good fruit for God’s glory, then that’s an extremely strong indicator that we are to live the same way.”
(Jesus in Matthew 26:39): “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”
“We can lay aside all our own invented ‘purposes’ – “My purpose is to be as comfortable as I can be at all times!” or “My purpose is just to have a good ole time, to have some good laughs before I die!” or “My purpose is to be gay or to be ‘me’ or to be ‘different’ because no one can tell me what to do!” or “My purpose is to be the best at everything (or at least think that I’m the best) so that I feel good about myself and don’t damage my self-esteem!” It’s like a Rottweiler rebelling against its owner, saying in defiance: “My purpose is not to be a faithful watchdog! My purpose is to be a world-class ballerina!” or a helicopter deciding that it prefers to function as a submarine boat. What if the sun preferred to function as a light bulb in your living room? Everything in the known world functions according to its purpose; we know this well, and our daily lives depend upon this truth. Now that we have heard our own purpose, we may choose to walk in it to God’s glory, taking Jesus as our ultimate teacher and guide in doing so, or we may continue inventing other ‘purposes’ for our lives that in the end prove to be equally dangerous and ridiculous, like using a machete to brush your teeth.”
(Jesus in John 15:1-17): “I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener.He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you.Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned.But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted!When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father. I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love.When you obey my commandments, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father’s commandments and remain in his love.I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you.There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.You are my friends if you do what I command.I no longer call you slaves, because a master doesn’t confide in his slaves. Now you are my friends, since I have told you everything the Father told me.You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name.This is my command: Love each other.”
A few Wednesdays ago we found ourselves once again sitting in an oblong rectangle of chairs, benches and stools in our concrete-floored dining room as about 30 of us – Darwin, our 7 kids, several middle-aged neighbors, Miss Martha and our schoolteacher, and about a dozen or so children and youth from our neighborhood – had come together to understand the Truth and study God’s Word.
The Wednesday prior Josselyn, our new 10-year-old daughter who hides her face when she gets nervous and is learning the alphabet for the first time in her life, decided to receive the invitation to peace with God through Jesus Christ after having heard in the Bible Study what exactly the ‘Good News’ is that is so frequently talked about throughout the Bible.
This week, however, we would be talking about the purpose of things. As always, everyone present is invited to participate (although some choose not to), and so I began naming different common items so that we could begin naming their purposes.
One of the first items I threw out there in this game of name-the-purpose was a machete, an extremely common item in Honduras, and even moreso out in the countryside where we live. Almost every male above the age of about 10 or 12 has one and uses it almost daily to ‘chop’ the yard, cut firewood, etc, so when I asked the group, “What is the purpose of a machete?”, they looked at me as if it was finally made plain to them that I’m a foreigner. You mean she doesn’t know the purpose of a machete? Is she serious?
After a short pause, one of the youth dared to state the obvious: “It’s for chopping the yard.” Everyone else looked at me as if to say, “…Duh…”
“Yes!” I affirmed. “And what else?”
“For cutting things…like firewood.” Someone else chimed in, answering perhaps the easiest question we had ever ventured to answer in this timeslot on Wednesdays when we dare to find answers to some of life’s hardest (and most pertinent) questions. No longer was I asking: “What is justice?” or “How does the World treat the orphans, the widows and the poor?” or “What are some of the lies the World tells us?” or “What is the Kingdom of God?” Rather, I’m asking the use of a large, simple knife that everyone is already familiar with.
“For killing.” Someone else said.
I clarified – “For killing – animals! Can we say ‘hunting’?”
After we exhausted the rather short list of purposes for a machete – and once everyone began realizing that this game of name-the-purpose was not so hard after all – we proceeded with a list of about two dozen things, naming the common, known purpose of each.
“What is the purpose of a bus?” (Another extremely common thing here, seeing as most people do not have their own cars and thus have to travel on big, retired American yellow school buses that have been converted into Honduran public buses to go on errands, visit other cities, etc).
“To carry people!” Someone shouted.
“Yes! And what else?”
“To…carry things!”
“Yes! Basically the purpose of a bus is to transport or move people and things from one place to another, right?” Everyone looked at me in utter agreement, excited even. “Ok, so if the bus doesn’t have any wheels or gas, it can still fulfill its purpose, right?”
For a split second I caught them off guard as they looked at me, then everyone started to laugh and say, “No! It wouldn’t fulfill its purpose without wheels or gas!”
So there we went, naming the purpose of food, a watchdog, shoes, the sun, a school, a backpack, and a host of other things. As we were nearing the end of the little list scribbled on the index card in my lap, I smiled and posed the actual question of the day, only to be met with blank, confused stares:
“What’s the purpose of a human being?”
One 13-year-old young man who participates in Darwin’s choir and has proved himself to be very respectful, humble and hard-working, was the only one who seemed able to compose an answer after a few seconds of shock. His opinion: “The purpose of a human being is to serve God…or…serve the Devil. You choose.”
Almost everyone seemed surprised by the mere fact that he was able to put an answer together to such an impossible question, and some laughed nervously.
I think I literally saw lightbulbs go off in several people’s heads as I begin explaining, “How interesting that quickly and accurately we can name off the purpose of a machete or a pair of shoes, but when asked to name our own purpose, we literally don’t know how to answer! If a machete is used to chop the grass but not to brush my teeth or comb my hair – and we all know that – then we can use it according to its purpose and thus fulfill its purpose, making it a useful machete. If we know that a watchdog does not fulfill its purpose of protecting the property if it has lost all its teeth, is deathly ill and can no longer stand or bark, we can accurately discern between a watchdog that is fulfilling its purpose and one that is not. But a human being? How on earth can we go about fulfilling our purpose if we don’t even know what it is? How could we use a pair of shoes properly if we did not know they were meant to protect our feet, that that is their purpose?”
I believe 12-year-old Jackeline learned a lesson last week, or at least I hope so. Our dear fifth grader has been struggling mightily to find a good work ethic in school, and quite frankly Darwin and I had not found a technique that has made any difference other than that of growing the dark circles under our eyes. We had tried the well-intentioned lectures and advice, sincere moments of prayer, hugs of encouragement and warmth, washing her mouth out with soap, taking away movies/art class/choir practice/other privileges in response to bad behavior, adding boring chores such as washing the walls of different buildings on our property, and even having special celebrations and awards for those who are making the effort in school, but all to no avail. No attitude change, no repentance, no newfound work ethic or desire in school.
So, as I’m knee-deep in reading a fantastic parenting book (Loving Our Kids on Purpose by Danny Silk), I found new inspiration with our pre-teen who is headed for a rough course in life if she doesn’t get her act together. I devised a plan and invited my husband Darwin to execute it with me. We passed by our school building around 10:30am, knocking on the door of the room that holds 7 students (3 of our own kids and 4 from our local community) and 1 teacher, hoping to catch Jackeline in her own trap. I informed the teacher with a big smile that we were merely stopping by to see how Jackeline was doing, and when the teacher hesitated in her response, I knew we had her! With dread in her voice, the teacher informed us that, again, Jackeline had refused to do her classwork, had hit her desk in defiance, and wouldn’t stop complaining the whole morning.
As if the teacher had told me, “Stop by my office at noon and I’ll give you a bag of chocolates,” I said cheerfully, “Ok great! Let’s go, Jackeline.”
Jackeline looked at me suspiciously as her thoughts read ‘Let’s go?’ Where to? It’s freaking me out how you’re smiling at me like that. Why don’t you look disappointed in me? Aren’t you supposed to be mad that I don’t make even the smallest effort is school ever? I mean, it’s disgraceful that I don’t even care about my own future! Another lecture would do me good, or at least take away all my privileges. That always seems to work.
I motioned excitedly with my arm that she follow us, so she got up from her desk, leaving behind her school materials that had already been out of use virtually the whole morning, and she began trailing sluggishly behind Darwin and I as we crossed our large front yard, went through the gate, and headed up the path to the large open-air structure that used to serve as our chicken run but now is used as a stable for Darwin’s cows.
As we arrived – me with a visible spring in my step, grateful and excited for this wonderful opportunity to try something new in the pioneer journey of teaching a vital lesson to this young woman we love – I kindly explained (again, with the tone of voice that a mother would use with her daughter to say, “Auntie Carol just dropped off a $50 check for your birthday and said that she’s going to invite you to vacation at the beach with her and your cousins next weekend!”) that since she obviously doesn’t want to be in school, then we’ll respect her freedom of choice and allow her to work.
Oh, if looks could kill! (And I’m not talking about ours!)
As we stood in the middle of the structure’s small enclosed yard with various fenceposts leaning over or having fallen down altogether, we explained how she would be working with a machete to remove the chicken wire of the entire perimeter (a job that’s needed to get done for months, but we haven’t had time to do it), putting all the wire together in a big pile and then organizing the various pieces of wood, old tires, etc that were lying about. More than a couple times as we walked around the enclosed area, I had to warn, “Watch your step, Jackeline! There’s a heap of cow poo right there.”
Her face and body language radiated mad, which only further confirmed that we had finally found a consequence that just might get under her skin. (And, hey, no fake tears for once!) We handed the machete to her after Darwin gave her a quick demo of how to whack away at the posts, removing the chicken wire, and we allowed her to change into work clothes and fill a water bottle before returning to spend the time necessary until the job was finished.
We cheerfully reminded her that we loved her and wished her well on her new work project, leaving promptly.
As Darwin and I returned to the office to finish the preparations for that day’s Bible study, I peeked out the window several times to see how our young worker was progressing. The poor girl was very confused – she was sitting down!
A couple hours later as we were serving lunch to about 30 or so people who had come to Bible study, I served up a bowl of lukewarm beans for our fence-repairer and walked with that same bounce in my step out to the chicken run for the second time that morning. As she saw me approaching, she quickly stood up and pretended to be working on a fence post, looking at me as if I was about to chew her butt for her laziness. My response: a peppy, loving, “Hey! There you are! Enjoy your lunch! Let me know if you need to fill up your water bottle again.”
I handed off the plastic bowl of beans, turned around, and left.
I think at that point she realized that going on strike wasn’t going to get her anywhere (or reel me in and trap me in some power struggle or futile discussion of morals and work ethics).
An hour or so later, a young neighbor of ours who had been at our home for lunch and the Bible study, looked at me and said in a concerned tone of voice, “Uh, Jennifer? Jackeline’s sure been out in the chicken run for quite a while…”
I smiled and said, “Yup! Sure has! You want to play soccer?”
Well, at some point that afternoon our young worker got up off her rear and started taking down fenceposts, and she did a pretty darn good job. About four-and-a-half hours after we first dropped her off there, she finished the job like a champ and came clogging in through the front gate with a bit less energy and a bit more accomplishment than she had had that morning.
Nothing is a cure-all, but since that day we have had a bit more success with the general attitude of our beloved fifth-grader, and the teacher even had a positive report about her general work ethic in school the next day.
Thank you, author Danny Silk, for your wonderful (and fun!) parenting advice! Glory to God!
A new stream of God’s abundant provision has recently been discovered through a large supermarket chain in the nearby city of La Ceiba – after several months of writing letters and waiting for responses, we now have an agreement with one of the locations to receive any surplus/damaged goods that for various reasons they are unable to sell. In the first few months of enjoying this agreement, we got a call every 3-6 weeks to come pick up a box or two of flour and toilet paper, but for some reason in this past week they have called us twice, and so two times in three days we brought home quite literally a truckbed full of goods for free.
Every time we receive a box, I exclaim to my husband Darwin, “It’s like Christmas!” because you never know what the boxes will hold. Just last week our truckbed held two-and-a-half boxes full of chocolate cookies, a couple boxes of flour and spaghetti noodles, quite a bit of canned food, a couple bars of soap, several containers of butter, some frozen French fries, and even a brand-new frying pan!
So last Thursday as I arrived home in our truck at 3:00pm after having picked up Gleny and Jason from their elementary school, I contemplated the still-closed boxes in the truckbed with weary excitement, wanting to rip into them to see what blessing they held but struggling through an already-too-long day that started around 5:00am after another night of not having slept a wink. I felt like all my nerves stood on end and that my head weighed more than the rest of my body.
Thankfully, several people who were just about the leave and head home came to help haul the boxes up the concrete steps into our dining room, and I followed behind, scheming through foggy thoughts exactly how I could manage with the least energy exertion possible the five hooligans who would be under my care until Darwin and our two eldest girls would get home that night around 7:30pm.
On days like I had last Thursday I often wish that my children had an “off” button or that they could be easily folded up and stored away in a dresser drawer for a few hours until I need them again. Unfortunately for weary parents, this is, of course, not the case, and thus I suddenly had five eager helpers who were just as excited to see what was in the mysterious boxes as I was (and had 684.92 questions, comments, and stories for me in the process), although in the back of my mind I contemplated starting the somewhat-intimidating task of sorting, lifting, storing, etc, the next day once I had hopefully slept a few hours.
But the Lord had other plans, and I’m so glad He did.
For some reason that is still unknown to me, I did, in fact, begin the gargantuan task of inspecting the blessed cargo and, not only that, but graciously solicited the help of Jason (8), Josselyn (10) and Gleny (11), while Josue (7) and Gabriela (6) played with brooms in the front yard. We spent the next couple hours making guesses about what would be in each box, carrying certain items to the pantry, storing others in bins, etc. There was so much food that it was quickly made clear to us that it was meant to be shared, thus we began classifying the food items according to what could be most useful to which neighbor of ours. My three assistants flitted around the kitchen literally aglow with joy – how sweet it is to discover (and then share!) God’s blessing alongside of your children! We made boxes for several neighbors, my assistants constantly eager to help think out which goods should go to which families and place (and then re-place and re-organize) the goods in the boxes so that they fit just right. We talked giddily about how God never leaves the giver without something to give, and that if we have in abundance (or in scarcity!), what we have is meant to be shared. It was never ours to begin with; we are but the little administrators of God’s provision, allowing goods to flow through our hands and lives like crystalline spring water!
It was one of those blessed afternoons where everything seems to ‘click;’ all our gears are moving in synchrony and we all ‘get it.’ God’s presence among us was palpable and His joy undeniable. Gleny made a comment about how she has noticed that our town of El Pino is growing in the Lord’s favor, and Josselyn talked through a big smile of how thankful she is that God has enabled us to continue blessing others.
Well, we couldn’t stop there! I went to write “God’s blessing for Mr. Mejia” in big bold permanent marker on the outside of one of the boxes, but Gleny interrupted the simple process and informed me that she wanted to do it. Although that involved helping her spell it out correctly (and then turning the box around and starting over when she messed up), it was worth it.
The next step was handing the boxes over – delivering the blessing that was never ours to keep! We laughed and worked in teams of two to hold the boxes as we shuffled across our large front yard, out the gate, and over to the small house on our property that is now home to four of our students (all siblings) and their parents, the father of which fills the role of night watchman.
Once we finished handing the two boxes over to our watchman’s family (the father looked somewhat betwixt as to why anyone would be so giddy about giving food away), we returned home feeling light and joyful, although we were a bit sad the process of giving seemed to be temporarily over. The other boxes would stay in our kitchen because they were for people who would be coming to our home the next morning, except…Mr. Mejia! It seemed utterly ridiculous due to my off-the-charts exhaustion after the lunacy of sleeping 2-3 hours one night and none the next, and so on, but it seemed to be the only thing that made sense. Our neighbor Mr. Mejia, a man in his 70s who is a pillar of faith in our community and frequents our Wednesday-afternoon Bible study, lives alone in what looks to be an abandoned half-constructed building about a 10-15 minute walk away, so I raised my eyebrows and asked my eager collaborators what they thought of an early evening walk through hungry mosquitos and possibly falling rain to drop off Mr. Mejia’s box of blessing.
They all squealed with excitement and asked if we could invite our neighbors (the watchman’s four children who are students in our school and are at our house so often that they have come to form part of our extended family) for the big event. I said yes, and so off we went – 9 kids and I quite literally skipping off down the overgrown, isolated trail in The Middle of Nowhere, Central America from our property to Mr. Mejia’s. The kids reached his house by doing various foot races while two or three people took turns hauling the box on the top of their heads. When we finally got to his house, his two thin dogs started barking like crazy at the end of their chains as we called out from just beyond his front gate to see if he was home.
It had not really occurred to me that he might not be home to receive the box, but that was, in fact, the exact situation we were facing. We shrugged disappointedly and looked at one another as I posed the honest question: “What do we do? Does anyone have any ideas?” At first our four young neighbors looked slightly shocked that an adult was actually asking for their opinion, but quickly enough various people threw out different options, each of which got vetoed by the group. Leave the box outside of his gate? No, because the food would get wet in the rain or someone would walk by and steal it. Come back tomorrow? No, because we are impatient and want to deliver it today.
Then Marina, our 15-year-old neighbor who is in 3rd grade in our school, shrugged innocently, pointed to the little twig-and-twine waist-high front gate that was already falling over and struck us all with her (evil? benevolent?) genius, “…We could just walk in and leave the box in his kitchen [which is an outdoor table under a roof made of palm leaves].”
I looked at the young faces all around me, pondering the absurdity of breaking and entering…and blessing. I said, “Well, um, uh…go quickly! Just Marina. Drop it off and come right back.”
So she opened the simple latch on the gate, carried the box through, took a couple dozen steps, dropped off the box, exited and closed the gate, and we were gone from the scene in less than a minute.
From there the foot races joyously continued as barefoot children — who, whether they understand it or not, just participated in the holy act of administering God’s provision to the poorest of the poor — darted off along the lonely rocky trail toward our property in what, to many, seems like a cursed corner of the earth where nothing good can happen.
My heart – and by all visible accounts, those of the children – overflowed, bubbled even, with a heavenly lightness, a joy that cannot be purchased or chased down. I laughed at the wisdom of God: in a neighborhood literally moaning from so many robberies, murders, broken families, and general confusion and chaos, the King of Kings utilized the unlikely, absurd, ridiculous: a young woman who 10 years ago didn’t have the slightest idea of who Jesus Christ was along with a band of young hooligans, many of which are illiterate and all of which are barefoot, traipsing through the jungle bathed in a heavenly glow to fulfill God’s will in perhaps the most unlikely of contexts. That is our God: light in the darkness, giving in a land of taking, a Kingdom destined for those who become like little children.
May Your Kingdom come, may Your will be done on earth as it in in heaven…
I have a dream…of living in a remote cabin all alone in some wintery wonderland, far away from the heaps of trash and mosquitos, far away from the extreme poverty of our neighbors, from situations that require more wisdom than I myself possess, far away from the sin and confusion of the world (except for my own, that is.)
That is precisely what I told our 15-year-old daughter a few days ago after a long and rather emotional discussion between myself, her, and our 12-year-old daughter. Tense, potentially stressful conversations like the one we had facilitated are a common occurrence in our household — nine people from two different countries and five different families of origin, one of which has special needs, another of which has severe insomnia and several of which have suffered extreme abuse and/or abandonment all between the ages of 6-32 living in a small house in a humid, rainy climate without air-conditioning or hot water that also shares its roof with mosquitos, scorpions, geckos, ticks, bats, rats and other visitors. All of which, including the spouses, 3-and-a-half years ago had never met, much less dreamed they would be living together someday as family.
After about an hour of mediating the aforementioned potentially explosive conversation between our two eldest daughters regarding respect, personal space, identity, etc, I sensed that our eldest and I needed to keep the conversation going a bit, so I dismissed 12-year-old Jackeline. I kept listening as Dayana, our eldest, opened up more and more about her general frustrations of being raised in a large, mixed family — younger siblings who enter her room without permission, confusion in the laundry pile of whose underwear is whose, younger sisters who want to wear her clothes, etc. Most of this is as foreign to me as the Spanish language was 6 years ago because I grew up an only child with both of my biological parents in the Texas suburbs, but, daily, God is stretching us all and teaching us His grace and compassion in the context of a complicated family that promises to test and try us.
After I had asked several times, “Is there anything else?”, and she wound down, having shared all she had to share, I sensed it was my turn. (My turn always comes last!)
What I did not say was: “Now, now, calm down. You know you love your siblings. Just be patient with them.” or “Why on earth are you so selfish? Can’t you see that we’re all doing the best we can?”
What I did say, by some pinch of divine wisdom, was: “It is hard. I know it is. You know what?” (At this point she’s staring at the table between us rather than looking me in the eyes.) “I would love to live alone just like you.” (Now she suddenly looks up at me, probably thinking, Then why on earth did you invite all these kids to live with you?!) My voice quickens with excitement as I beginning sharing with her my ‘dream’ of living in some simple, comfortable cabin up in the mountains in a place like Montana or Southern Canada, earning a living with some kind of job that I could do on the computer right there in my little cabin, drinking hot tea and not having a single child or teenager around to bother me, lie to me, steal from me, or make things more complicated than they need to be. I would not even have to think about child prostitution or generational bondage to sin or foolish, uneducated youth. I would not have to see lives unnecessarily destroyed by sin while my heart gets broken in the mix. Everything would be calm, and everything would be under control. My control.
While I am sharing all of this, Dayana is visibly caught off guard by my sincerity and my genuine excitement as I continue telling her all about my far-off dream. (And it is, in fact, some far-off little dream that I have, and the temptation of entertaining it comes on my longest days, when our second-grader’s teacher sends a note home saying he is using four-letter words on his classmates or our preteens start biting each other during prayer or members of our own household are heard slandering my husband and I.)
As if her eyes were windows to her mind, I read her thoughts: “Great! That sounds like what I want, too — no noisy children, more personal space. Let’s go cabin-shopping! We’ll find one for you up on a little mountaintop, and on a neighboring mountaintop that’s a good day’s-hike away, we’ll build one for me. What are we waiting for?!”
As if reminding myself once more why that dream is not a reality, I said: “But you know what? If I were to live like that, I would be useless to God’s purposes. If I isolate myself and live comfortably, fine. But where are you? Who’s raising you? Who is guiding Josselyn? Josue? If I close myself off and live according to how I want to live, I become useless in God’s hands. Your Dad and I share our home with all 7 of you not because it is the most comfortable thing to do or because we just enjoy having disobedient children around, but because the Lord is using us in your lives for His glory.” She gets it. She’s listening. “Living in our home is not about living for our own pleasure and comfort. If I live all alone in my perfect little cabin, I could very easily believe Everything’s fine in the world. I’m a really patient, composed person. I don’t even need a Savior. But it’s when Gleny has pushed my buttons one too many times and I’m at the end of myself and I have to cry out to God ‘Grant me patience because I don’t have any more!’ that God’s power manifests itself. When I’ve given all that I have to give and then am asked to give more, that’s when we see God’s provision. It is easy to think you are a grace-filled person when you aren’t required to show grace to annoying, perhaps disrespecting younger siblings. But when you reach the end of yourself, that’s when you turn to God and see His aid, His power. If I were to live all by myself, I would miss all of this, and God would have to find someone else to do His work.”
In the end, it’s not about my dreams; it’s about His.
Hidden Treasures: Seeking the Kingdom of God in Honduras 