Category Archives: Personal Reflection

Farm Life, God At Work Among Us, Marriage, Personal Reflection

Attitude Check

November 15, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

We live out in the middle of nowhere at the end of a long gravel road at the base of a mountain range. Our water system has always been an enigma to me, and it has continually frustrated me as it has run dry at inopportune times. When we least expect it, there is a problem with the tubing or the tank or the community’s water supply and suddenly there is no running water on our property for a couple hours or a couple days.

When it rains hard (which it does here frequently), the tubes get clogged up with debris, leaving us without water. When they do work on the community’s water system up the mountain, they close off the pipes, leaving us without water. When our dear neighbor’s cow herd comes over to graze (which happens several times per week), the cows break the tubes, leaving us without water.

That means no water for washing dirty dishes, no water for showers, and extra costs and hassle in buying large back-up water jugs for drinking water. It also means traipsing down to the river behind our property to wash clothes, to fill up the farm animal’s drinking pails, and maybe even to bathe ourselves.

A couple weeks ago as Darwin was getting ready to go out of town for a week with our faith community to install a potable water system in a poor rural village in another part of Honduras, I found myself complaining about our own water system and not looking forward to having to jimmy with the valves, revise the tubes, hope the water didn’t go out when we had a pyramid of dirty dishes, etc, while Darwin was away.

Praise God Darwin cut me off before I sent out official invitations to my pity party. With a sincere grin on his face and outstretched arms he said, “Hey, we haven’t died of thirst yet!”

That is code for: Jennifer, God has continually provided us with what we need, even if at times it is not convenient or easy. Let’s give thanks rather than complain.

And he is so right. I laughed and agreed, “You’re right; we haven’t died of thirst yet,” and assumed an inward posture of humble thanksgiving toward our Constant Provider, knowing full well that He is always good and worthy of praise.

A few days later while Darwin was out of town, I was working in our living room when someone came to our front door. It was our beloved neighbor who weed-eats our yard each month, and he came bearing bad news. While weed-eating, he accidentally chopped the entire tube in half that descends from our water tank to provide water to the buildings on our property.

I left what I was doing and serenely followed him around the back of the kitchen to the scene of the accident, certain that what I was about to see wouldn’t be pretty, but at the same time not bothered at all. Sure enough, the tube was sliced in half and water was spraying out in all directions, rapidly emptying the tank of our entire source of water. I laughed and thought, Well, this is new!

With newfound peace and thanksgiving bursting forth from my heart, knowing full well that we would be without water until he would be able to go buy the replacement part and return to fix the tube, I assured him that mistakes happen and that God is always good.

Later that afternoon, as the mountain of laundry called my name, I filled up bucket after bucket, hauling them on my shoulders down to the river behind our home, laughing under the falling rain at the goodness of God’s grace. As I knelt on the river’s shore, washing our clothes and towels in the rushing, cleansing current, I felt as though I had never before been happier or had a deeper understanding of how constant God’s provision is. Completely wet and completely joyful, my jeans marked up with mud and grass stains and my wooly socks saturated inside of my rain boots, body straining to heave heavy buckets of wet clothes across our property, I never felt more clearly the joy of God’s presence.

Farm Life, Personal Reflection

Everything Has a Beginning and an End

October 28, 2014 jenniferzillycanales Leave a comment

The other day Jason, our seven-year-old, and I sat on a concrete bench at the bus stop as we began discussing how sad we both were that one of our dogs had died from a strange stomach condition after having taken her to the vet several times. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly began telling Jason how everything – everything – has a beginning and an end. Except God.

This fact is probably rather obvious, but for both of us it proved to be a rather profound realization. Every animal, plant, and human has a beginning (when it is born or planted) and its end, when it dies. Even the oldest, most majestic of all trees will one day fall. Earth had its beginning as it exploded out of the Creator’s heart, and one day it will have its end when He calls his people to enter the Kingdom. Every opportunity, job, meal, building, project and relationship has a beginning and an end. Same with the sun, the stars. Our own bodies change every day, each day drawing nearer to their physical end. Snowflakes melt, childhood passes, my favorite hiking boots come undone at the seams.

Living on a ranch with the children has allowed each of us the priceless experience of learning first-hand that birth and death are normal parts of life while we are on Earth. Our horse died of a poisonous snake bite, several baby chicks died upon being born, fruits are picked from the trees and eaten. More radish seeds are planted, the chicks grow into chickens, and the rooster is killed when his season has passed. Birth. Life. Death.

I am currently on a three-night solitude retreat high up in the mountains of Honduras at a small bed and breakfast. This afternoon I walked barefoot around the well-manicured grounds, hearing the river roar far below, admiring this peaceful escape while at the same time realizing that it won’t be here forever. The building itself will begin to wear down over the years, the owners may close down or pass away, and things will change.

I don’t know about you, but this realization helps me tremendously to let go. When I get so wrapped up in our marriage or focused on some material improvement or place my identity in my temporary vocation, God whispers: It will all pass except me.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:18

Photo sites:

http://www.familiesraisingchickens.com/Hatching-Chicken-Eggs.html

http://johnstarnesurbanfarm.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-second-ever-rooster-kill.html

http://triggerpit.com/2012/01/25/sequoia-the-ancient-giants/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Milky_Way_IR_Spitzer.jpg

God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

I Myself Am That Man

October 27, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 2 Comments

The other morning I was in the large coastal city of La Ceiba running some errands when I stopped by my favorite breakfast spot – an old wooden cart parked alongside the curb in one of the city’s busy downtown streets. Taxis, buses, cars, bicylists, pedestrians and emaciated street dogs passed by as a few women prepared baleadas (think Mexican tacos) over several gas-powered burners, flipping tortillas on the skillet with their bare hands and calling out orders as people stoond in line to buy the Honduran delicacy. The cart itself doesn’t look like it would be sanitary enough to eat out of, and much less when you consider the pollution, exhaust, and raw city life on all sides.

But nonetheless, that little cart is one of our favorite places to eat.

That morning as I sat on one of about a half dozen plastic chairs lining the sidewalk, eating my breakfast in a small basket in my lap alongside a couple businessmen, an elderly woman, and a young mother, I became surprisingly disgusted with my surroundings. This is not hard to do in La Ceiba, as trash lines the streets, most buildings have chipped paint, people and animals urinate on the sidewalks, and everything tends to have a grimy feel. My eyes followed a rather beautiful yet unfortunate street dog with a broken front leg, hobbling along looking for food until a man aggressively shooed him and he darted off. I cringed as he ran. Then my eyes found a homeless man rummaging through a trash can less than two yards from me. My mind filled with thoughts like I would really rather not be eating breakfast in this environment. Thank you, God, for giving us a home in the countryside, for sparing us from living in the midst of all this mess of pain and sin.

And then my eyes landed upon another homeless man an arm’s reach away, this one with a knotted rope in his hands, talking nonsense and swinging the rope up against the back of someone’s truck, a sort of soft whipping motion. A thoroughly unpleasant man from all points of view, and I considered leaving with my breakfast to find somewhere else to sit and eat, away from him and his whipping rope. I studied him with my eyes as I hesitated to leave (knowing that any other sidewalk or park bench nearby would have the same unfortunate surroundings), and suddenly a thought intruded on me: I myself am that man. We are all that man in God’s sight in our filthiness, our nonsense, our unpleasant nature.

I don’t know how to take the thought much further than that, but we are all, in fact, that man. That dirty, crazy, his-presence-ruins-my-breakfast man. In God’s sight that is each one of us, each one of us falling short of His glory no matter how intelligent, accomplished or polished we are. If I think I am better than that man because I graduated from college and don’t pee in the street and know that whipping a rope against a car is not socially acceptable, I’m more lost than he is. God sees us much more clearly than we see ourselves: that man and I are on the same level, both desperately in need of God’s grace, my sin no better or worse than his. God chose to send His son to die for us – for that man and you and me – not because we deserve it but because He is merciful. And let us not be fooled into believing otherwise.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Marriage, Personal Reflection

30 Things We’ve Learned in our First Year as Parents

October 16, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

November 1, 2014 will be our one-year anniversary as parents. A couple days ago Darwin and I sat down and compiled the following list of some of the things we’ve learned thus far:

In order to get them to stop slamming doors, simply sit down with them once and say very calmly, “The next person who slams a door will lose their bedroom door. We will literally take down your door and hang up a curtain, because you can’t slam a curtain. Well, I guess you can, but it wouldn’t make any noise,” and they will never slam a door again. (We used to have several slammed doors per day, but now it’s been roughly seven months and counting without a single slammed door.)
Parenting books really do help.
In raising children, if our hope and purpose is placed in the children themselves, we will continually feel frustrated and in despair as they make mistakes, sin, and fail to meet expectations – rather our purpose in being parents must be rooted in the love of and obedience to God, who is perfect and does not change.
The kids should not be allowed to cook by themselves (or they prepare 17 tortillas per person for breakfast).
It is wise to have a “turkey talk” with them about the changes their body will soon experience, God’s vision of purity, and sex before they hear misinformation from a classmate or some other source. Give them accurate and honest information on an age-appropriate level so that they are responsible before God to make informed decisions.
That African proverb that says “It takes a whole village to raise a child” really is true. The raising of any child is a team effort, and teachers, coaches, neighbors, aunts and uncles, nurses, day-care workers, etc, probably underestimate the true impact they have (or could potentially have) on the children in their lives. With that being said, those who aren’t necessarily “parents” may in fact be part of the parenting team of one or more children.
The kids enjoy seeing us be affectionate with one another (holding hands in public, hugs in the kitchen, etc) and seem to feel very secure knowing that Mom and Dad genuinely love and care for one another.
Children “know” many things and may even be able to finish our sentences and quote Bible verses, but it is not knowledge that counts, but rather practice. Saying a beautiful prayer over dinner about the need to be truthful does not necessarily lead to truth-telling once a sticky situation arises. Hypocrisy is always lurking, so the focus must always be on putting into earnest practice the good that we know rather than merely talking about it, as if knowledge alone suffices. (We know this is a rampant sin among adults as well, and this year we’ve learned that it begins in childhood and even when detected early on requires much prayer, constant guidance, and discipline to correct.)
Asking their opinion when it is possible (which route they think we should take to get home, what order we should do our activities in, an opinion regarding a certain family decision, etc) helps them in the development of their self-confidence and decision-making ability, and they feel very important and valued in being asked what they think.
If we do not carve out time each day for just the two of us to spend time together, all of our time quickly gets swept away with the children. (We learned this after it seemed like every night we were all in the living room playing and spending time together until 9:00 or 10:00pm before we would head to our room late, exhausted. Now we have a house norm that the kids must be in their rooms at 8:00pm and lights out at 9:00pm, which gives us alone time each evening to talk and connect.)
Being a parent is a 24/7 job, and even when we are not physically with the kids we are likely praying for them, reading a book on how to parent them better, talking or thinking about them, planning activities for them, or doing something for them.
Children should never be allowed to use Clorox bleach under any circumstances. (We made this grave mistake in the first several months as parents, allowing them to use bleach for cleaning purposes, but we ended up with towels and sheets with big bleach stains and many ruined clothes.)
Loving all of them equally and treating each one differently are not mutually exclusive terms; rather we must learn what each one needs and wants and be able to respond accordingly so that our love for them can be genuinely shown. The way that we show our love for our 14-year-old daughter and our 7-year-old son are very different even though we treasure them both equally.
Natural intelligence does not necessarily have a strong correlation with academic achievement.
In a family with more than one child, it is vitally important to create time for each child to receive individual attention. We call these “dates” in our family, and they are held in high esteem by everyone. (I grew up an only child, so my memories of childhood were like one long “date” with both of my parents that I frequently wished would end!)
Having a schedule that is fairly fixed each day is a tremendous help in cultivating a familial rhythm and sense of order. (Having a daily schedule may seem rather obvious, but we stumbled through our first several months, groping at chaos as we were trying to figure out how to manage a busy household, attend to everyone’s needs, establish special family traditions, make sure everyone was wearing clean clothes, etc.)
When one child, especially one of the older ones, is struggling with a particular sin (lying, etc), all are put in danger of falling into the same. It is very important that the older ones set good examples, because they will be copied whether they want to be or not.
The incessant and potentially annoying question “Why?” actually does have a purpose: the child is trying to understand the world around him and form his own opinions of how things work that will eventually govern him as an adult. We should be thanking God that he’s asking us “Why?” instead of answering all his questions with what he sees in the media and in his friends’ lives! Taking the time to answer all the “why’s” clearly and honestly is a huge investment we can make into their future decision-making.
Children recognize and appreciate honesty in adults.
Children don’t mind not having access to a television. (We’ve never had one in our home, and the children haven’t complained once about it.)
The best way to help the children relax is to take them to an open-air area, such as the river or park.
We should not seek to keep them little and cute; we should help them to take appropriate risks, be their constant cheerleaders, allow them to speak for themselves, assume the consequences for their actions, and take on new challenges and skills in their lives so that they become the men and women God would have them to be.
Kids have a lot of great ideas if we will take the time to listen.
Fulfilling promises as much as possible is crucial.
A pet (such as a chick or a dog) helps the children to relax.
If we implement a new family rule, norm, change of the daily schedule, or disciplinary procedure (or, even better, if we get everyone’s input and everyone agrees upon what is just and do-able together) and take the time to lovingly explain why, it is actually very easy for them to accept changes, even if the children don’t necessarily understand “what’s in it for them.”
One child should never be compared to another.
It is extremely fun to parent a very bright child, but it also requires much more from us.
You should always speak well of your spouse to your children – the kids catch on and can feel a strong sense of family unity, plus they, too, begin to speak well of those who aren’t present.
Creative, imaginative play is so crucial to their overall development (and quite fun to participate in with them).

God At Work Among Us, Marriage, Personal Reflection

Perhaps the Most Important Thing I’ve Ever Learned

October 11, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

Lightbulb.

The desert is the world.

The desert does not merely represent passing difficulties, a season of suffering, or some big problem we are facing. The Promised Land is not just around the corner; it cannot be entered upon accepting a new job, making the most of a new opportunity, falling in love, pursuing your dreams, or regaining your health. Or whatever else you think will make you happy.

Only upon dying do we enter the Promised Land fully.

Up until a few days ago I was terribly mistaken – I believed that for me being entrusted with the Living Waters Ranch was in some way an entering God’s Promised Land, a sacred place of safety where I would somehow be removed from the stains of this world, completely immersed in the goodness of His Kingdom. Something like heaven on earth. My grand exit from my affluent life in the States into my role as “mom” for orphaned and abandoned kids has actually increased my daily trials ten-fold. Robberies. Financial insecurity. Corruption. Lost friendships due to geographical distance. Water and electricity that go out frequently. The Promised Land?

I’m still in the desert.

And so are you, or maybe you’re still in slavery, which, although it might seem more comfortable than life in the desert, is worse.

Most people are at least fairly familiar with the story of Exodus, of God rescuing His people out of slavery in Egypt thousands of years ago, leading them through the parted Red Sea, guiding them as they wandered in the desert for 40 years, and then finally leading them to the abundant land He promised to Abraham years before.

Although it is probably shockingly simple to some, what I learned this past week through our beloved mentor who has humbly served as a missionary in Honduras for over 20 years has profoundly altered my perspective on everything:

Egyptian slavery represents our life when we were slaves to sin and far from God.

The crossing of the Red Sea represents our salvation, when we recognize Jesus as our Lord. This crossing was the literal salvation of the Israelites fleeing Egypt as God allowed them to escape via the parted sea from their enemies who were hounding them.

The 40 years in the desert represent life after salvation while we are still alive. This time of desert trial does not end while we are alive. It is incredibly difficult and, as is mentioned in Exodus chapter 17, many of us may even wonder why it is that we left Egypt (which, remember, represents slavery.) Our task in the desert is to believe God is with us even though the temptation will be to doubt, to feel abandoned in a dry land.

The Promised Land represents our entrance into the Kingdom of God, or, more commonly know as heaven. This entrance becomes fully realized only upon death. While in this world we are participants in the Kingdom of God and get tastes of the King’s goodness, we do not fully enter until our death in this world, i.e. our complete exit from the desert.

Our problems and daily difficulties are not to be griped about or even merely tolerated, waiting eagerly for the day when they will pass. We are to find Christ in the midst of those difficulties, give thanks even though it may at first seem unnatural, and confirm in our spirit that God is with us and guiding us home.

So a couple days ago as Darwin and I were in the midst of a couple potentially distressful situations, I felt as though perhaps for the first time in my life I was truly enjoying that inexplicable peace that Christ offers us rather than trying to take everything in my own hands and fix the problems myself, vowing not to rest until everything is under control (which is never). My normal reaction would have been for my heart rate to accelerate, my thoughts roaring against the question Why? and trying to find the quickest and most painless solution, straining ahead looking for a glimpse of tranquility, of the Promised Land that never seems to arrive. But instead of growing dark circles under my eyes a contagious grin took over my face and that peace that I have never before experienced enveloped me. My husband looked at me as if I had lost my mind, and I shrugged care-freely and said, “We’re in the desert. This is our time of trial to see if we believe God is with us. And I believe He is. Let us give thanks for this trial because it will help perfect our faith.”

And then we sat down to discuss everything I had learned that week in our faith community’s discipleship group because he had been in the hospital caring for our youngest and had not been able to attend. After discussing animatedly the fact that our task while we are alive is to embrace our trials and difficulties, giving thanks to God and trusting He is with us (not waiting impatiently for the trials to end…because they never do, or complaining in the desert as the Isrealites did), knowing that Christ, our rock, is with us if only we will recognize Him, Darwin looked at me, amazed at this work God is doing in his young wife who typically maintains an almost constant level of stress and anxiety. With wonder in his eyes, he said, “You look serene.”

I laughed as words of thanksgiving flowed from my mouth, and he and I read together the following verses from the Bible:

James 1:2-4 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

Exodus 17: 1-7 The whole Israelite community set out from the Desert of Sin, traveling from place to place as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. So they quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.”

Moses replied, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you put the Lord to the test?”

But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses. They said, “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?”

Then Moses cried out to the Lord, “What am I to do with these people? They are almost ready to stone me.”

The Lord answered Moses, “Go out in front of the people. Take with you some of the elders of Israel and take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will stand there before you by the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it for the people to drink.” So Moses did this in the sight of the elders of Israel. And he called the place Massah and Meribah because the Israelites quarreled and because they tested the Lord saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Psalm 95 Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. Today, if only you would hear his voice, “Do not harden your hearts as you did at Meribah, as you did that day at Massah in the wilderness, where your ancestors tested me; they tried me, though they had seen what I did. For forty years I was angry with that generation; I said, ‘They are a people whose hearts go astray, and they have not known my ways.’ So I declared on oath in my anger, ‘They shall never enter my rest.’”

Photo sites:

http://gnato.deviantart.com/art/LONELINESS-6327864

Child Playing the Violin at his Teacher’s Funeral

http://jeremyfokkens.com/blog/pabna-mental-institution/

http://fredbroom.blogspot.com/2013_05_01_archive.html

http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20140211/world/Of-human-suffering.506339

Finding Joy in Suffering

Family, Farm Life, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

Our Favorite Neighbor

October 7, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 2 Comments

Entering our kitchen pantry, composed, I bent over to scoop out concentrated feed mix from a large burlap bag when I suddenly felt like someone had taken a strong fist to my solar plexus, and tears began to flood my eyes.

No, I thought. Not now, not yet. I forced the flood gates to close and regained momentary composure, knowing that we would be going to the chicken run together in a couple minutes. This would be our last early morning trip together to feed and water our hungry laying hens. Then we would help him pack his bags. And he would move out.

After over eight months of almost constant struggle – sometimes meaningful, profound, fringed with beauty as we saw hints of progress, while at other times so mind-bogglingly frustrating that we wanted to pull our hair out and stomp about like mad men – the local 14-year-old, Brayan, whom we had taken in as a son, decided to leave and return to his step-mother’s home a short walk away.

For several months now – or perhaps the whole time he lived with us – we used our wills to propel him forward due to his almost entire lack of motivation. We willed him to pass fourth grade, were on top of him every step of the way to complete the very few homework assignments he had, but even so he would lie, cut corners, and do a shockingly poor job even when he knew help was readily available. Hours and hours of one-on-one tutoring resulted in him declaring several times per week, “I will not receive classes today!” as he put his head defiantly on his desk and stubbornly fulfilled his own prophecy. Sending him to re-wash the same clothes four and five times still ended in brand new clothing stained and ruined within two or three uses. We invested in private sessions with a Christian psychologist, vitamins to help his intellectual capacity, weekly classes with his private tutor, hours upon hours of prayer, quality time spent individually with him, and a firm yet loving system of discipline and rewards.

As things progressed and he overtly refused to participate in his homeschool classes, voluntarily stopped taking music lessons with Darwin, disrespected his private tutor time after time, left without permission and did not return one night until after we were all in bed, refused to fulfill his basic chore duties, defied any disciplinary measures we took, and stopped participating in the basic agricultural activities that we do as a family, we entered into a period of prayerful discernment with him, lovingly explaining that he had a decision to make: change several things and thus choose to continue living with us, or carry on as he had been and thus freely choose to leave.

Two weeks later as things worsened with him and we felt the others were at increased risk of being infected by his rebellious, foolish spirit (or physically in danger due to angry outbursts), we decided with Brayan that it was time for him to leave because his actions had declared loudly, clearly, and consistently that he had no interest in respecting the guidelines of our home nor the people in it.

But instead of saying any of the above, instead of scolding him for having done things poorly or for his overwhelming laziness and ungratefulness, I gently held his face in my hands, his eyes drilling mine with an intensity I had yet seen from him, as the Lord gave me word after word to speak into his broken life before this chapter came to close and he would walk out the door with his belongings in plastic bags. We stood there, in the kitchen he and I, for over an hour, him listening intently as the Lord spoke through me to this young man, this prodigal son of His, because I myself had no more words to give. This tough guy who never cries, who laughs loud when he’s nervous and pokes fun at others to hide his own insecurities, who only this year learned how to read and write, had tears welling up in his eyes, as I did cascading over my heart. After giving him one last sermon – and this one seemed to be one of the first to be openly welcomed – I gave him a big hug before he would step into the real world beyond the daily discipline, help, and love of Ma and Pa.

As my fingers tousled his hair, I asked, “Do you want to go with me to the chicken run before we help you pack your stuff?,” Such a good-bye activity may appear odd to some but for us it seemed like the perfect ending to what God had crafted into one of His perfect jaggedy-patchwork chapters in His overarching redemption of mankind.

Basically it all boils down to freedom. That’s what we discussed at length with Brayan, and that is what has enabled us to enjoy such joyful peace in the midst of heartbreaking loss. God grants that freedom – free will – to each one of us, and He does not interfere with our use of it. It is only due to this free will that we can freely choose to love and follow the Good Shepherd. If we were not free to choose evil, we would likewise not be free to choose good. If I cannot choose hatred, neither can I choose love. God does not force our hand, and when someone refuses to accept Christ and submit themselves to His will, He lets them go. Saddened, yes, and longing for their repentance, their return, but He lets them go because they are merely exercising the freedom that He granted to them. There are consequences for how we use our freedom, of course, and when we stand in front of His throne at the end of our lives those consequences will prove eternal and irreversible, but we will have no one to look to beyond ourselves, for it is we who decided how to use the delicate freedom entrusted to us.

Likewise with Brayan. We did everything within our power to help him excel, to aid his growth, to convince him to be a productive, joyful member of both our temporal family and God’s eternal one, but ultimately it is and always was his choice. In respecting his right to choose, we affirm God’s role in letting us choose.

We also enjoy such abounding peace because we do not feel like we left anything unsaid nor missed one of the many opportunities to ask for his forgiveness after some folly on our part. We did not withhold any good thing from him, any measure of affection. Foot massages, singing him to sleep at night. Did not forget to say “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” or “We’re certain God will form you into a brave, compassionate man, an honorable father and faithful husband.” Oh, how many hundreds of times did we say those things! In many senses we lived every day with him (and the others) as if it could be our last, because we truly did not know if one day the government would swoop in and remove the children, if their biological families would come to claim them, or if the gangs in our neighborhood would storm our home at night and take our lives.

So now Brayan is our favorite neighbor, and we still see him nearly every day, exchanging big hugs as we pass one another along the dirt road or stopping by one another’s homes for an unscheduled visit. He is currently not in school or working, nor does he show desire to do either. Please pray with us for Brayan as God guides him in this season of discernment as he learns to take responsibility for the life and talents God has given him. And above all, let us give thanks to God for the eight months of growth, guidance, discipline, and love that he received under our roof in Jesus’ name.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Marriage, Personal Reflection

Busy Parent Syndrome

August 30, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 2 Comments

Oh, Busy Parent Syndrome — you know what it is. It’s that ugly beast that rears its head when Mom and Dad are too occupied in adult affairs to spend quality time with their kids, so to ease their guilt they buy their children gifts.

I have fallen ill with this syndrome.

Our household these past few weeks has been tilted at an odd angle — Darwin and I have spent what seems like more than half the week on long day trips to the large nearby city of La Ceiba, on important errands, meeting with lawyers, organizing our board of directors — etc, etc, etc. Without going into details, we’ll say these past few weeks have been quite hectic and filled with heightened levels of general uncertainty and stress.

Family movie nights have thus morphed into kids-watch-a-movie-and-mom-and-dad-go-to-their-room-to-destress, and more than once in these last few weeks I’ve come home with purchased surprises for the kids when I knew I hadn’t come home early enough to spend the afternoon playing or reading with them.

Yesterday some of the symptoms of BPS (Busy Parent Syndrome) worsened as I brought home some cute clothes from a resale shop for our youngest two, knowing that I wasn’t able to offer myself to them during this busy season, but falling prey to the lie that at least I could offer something. Little nine-year-old Gleny was visibly excited to receive her secondhand polka-dot t-shirt I bought her, but after the fleeting thrill wore off she set it down and started chattering my ear off about something else, approaching me eagerly with one of her (rather painful) wrap-her-arms-around-your-neck-and-lift-her-legs-up-bear-hug, obviously more interested in having Mom than anything Mom could buy her. A blob of guilt rose up in my throat, knowing she would have taken an afternoon of juice-carton art projects or sit-in-my-lap time over me doing something or buying something for her.

z kids' clothes

Sound at all like how we treat our relationship with God sometimes? Go to church, attend small groups, serve in some capacity, are financially generous — do, do, do — but neglect the actual relationship, skirting around it with a lot of busyness without actually embracing His love and reciprocating it?

So last night as a family we took a stand against BPS. We organized a family movie night (and impromptu dance party and creativity competition in the living room), stuck to the plan even though Darwin and I were dog tired, cuddled with the kids on the couch, and enjoyed mugs of hot, sweet milk (a common treat in our home) that I had prepared in our kitchen. It was the most joyful evening we have spent as a family in some time, laughing together and genuinely enjoying one another’s company, setting the demands of the day aside, knowing that to some extent they will always be there.

Jesus’ words trickled through my mind all night and into the morning as I meditated on the sweetness of our evening with the children and how we have so carelessly allowed the demands of the day to interfere with the blessed communion our family enjoys with our Creator and one another: Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own…Be still and know that I am God.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

The Long Road Home

August 26, 2014 jenniferzillycanales Leave a comment

Recently I sat alone under the night sky on an outdoor stairwell at our mentors’ home, my weary body resting upon the concrete steps as I looked up at the towering mountain before me. Thunder drummed above, and, at a loss for words, I prayed, “Lord, lead me safely home.”

Home, of course, does not mean my parents’ home in San Antonio, TX or my home with my husband and children here in rural Honduras.

Help me not to stray on the journey. Lead me safely home, Father. Lead me home. My heart cried desperately yet rejoiced unabashedly, reminded once again that I will never truly have ‘home’ in this world.

All at once I felt lost in the chaos of this world, the uncertainty, the grinding battles – utterly lost but also inexplicably found, at rest in the knowledge that my Lord has overcome this sin-stained world.

Living in a country such as Honduras has helped teach me that nothing is guaranteed, not even life itself. Our 14-year-old son witnessed the murder of one of his neighbors at a young age; thefts are committed in our neighborhood daily. Our dear friend lost her two preteen sons in a car accident; our children were rejected by their own parents. The government’s religion is corruption; ‘trust’ and ‘justice’ are foreign concepts in this land. The Lord has used these experiences to help me embrace a truth that many still refuse to accept: nothing other than God Himself can be legitimately counted upon. As much as I love my husband, he is not mine, and his life – or mine – can be taken at any moment. My children are not mine (this realization is perhaps made easier because they were not birthed from my womb) and therefore my security cannot be placed in my role as “mom.” Even my physical home is not guaranteed, nor my bank account – should I place my faith, my security and hope in anything other than the eternal, unchanging God, my life becomes a lie.

I recently stumbled upon this quote by A.W. Tozer that has since been tumbling around my mind:

“The man who has God for his treasure has all things in One. Many ordinary treasures may be denied him, or if he is allowed to have them, the enjoyment of them will be so tempered that they will never be necessary to his happiness. Or if he must see them go, one after one, he will scarcely feel a sense of loss, for having the Source of all things he has in One all satisfaction, all pleasure, all delight. Whatever he may lose he has actually lost nothing, for he now has it all in One, and he has it purely, legitimately and forever.”

Lord, lead us home. May You, and You only, be our eternal home.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

A Morning of Silence

August 11, 2014 jenniferzillycanales Leave a comment

Several weeks ago when our family wasn’t going to be able to attend the Christian discipleship group that we normally attend every Sunday morning, Darwin and I responded to something different that God had placed on our heart: a morning of complete silence. We sat down with our four kids the night before, explaining how the next morning we would all be in total silence until noon, when lunch would be served and the silence would be broken. Each person could go wherever they wanted to within the limits of our property – in the hammock, under the shade of a tree, in their own bedroom, anywhere – in order to spend a personal time completely focused on God. Each person could spend time reading the Bible, praying, or meditating, and the only guidelines were that each person would maintain absolute silence and would focus the morning hours only on God. As Darwin and I explained this, the kids reactions were fused with intrigue. Our home is typically filled with little voices humming about, chattering non-stop about 108 different things, so Darwin and I naturally wondered if they would truly be able to maintain silence for such an extended period of time, but we trusted God’s voice within us and knew He would be faithful in what He led us to do.

The next morning we each got up when we were fully rested, and each person began what would be several hours of focused silence. As I left my room in the early morning to go to the kitchen, Jason greeted me, as he always does, and I responded with a smile and a “shh” gesture with my pointer finger over my mouth, reminding him that we were to be in total silence.

Darwin went on a solitude hike to spend time in contemplation, and I returned to our room to read Paul’s first and second letters to the early Corinthian church. After my encounter with Jason I neither saw nor heard a single other soul all morning. I thought the children must have left because no one knocked on our bedroom door or appeared suddenly in our windowsill for a friendly greeting!

We all came together at lunchtime as planned, and looking visibly refreshed and at peace, we each brought to the table our experiences with the Lord that morning. Gleny, our nine-year-old, explained in detail how she read Proverbs 31 about the exemplary woman (a bedtime favorite for the girls), and she realized for the first time that work is a blessing that the Lord gives us. Gleny noted this with a tinge of excitement, explaining how the woman in Proverbs 31 was a very hard-worker, and how through her dignified work she was able to provide for her family. Gleny then explained that she used to complain about having to work and do her chores (which is true), but that now that she understands that work is biblical and a blessing, she looks at it as a privilege instead of a burden. Darwin and I watched our little girl — this little girl who stains her clothes playing outside, just recently learned how to read and write, and loves Disney princess movies — with a sense of awe, thankful that we were obedient to God’s call to implement a morning of silence and amazed at what He did in her heart after just a couple hours completely absorbed in His presence.

Each person’s experiences during the morning of silence were unique, and that day we sat around our long wooden dining table discussing what we learned, read, and prayed that morning. It was as though the Lord was breathing new life into each one of us.

We have since had the morning of silence two more times, each time with unique and personal results. That time of set-aside silence unto the Lord is becoming a cornerstone for our family, and I challenge you to try the morning of silence with your own family, roommates, or friends and share your experiences via a comment on the blog post.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

Pieces of History

July 11, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

This week while the four children were in music classes with Darwin, I entered the boys’ room – which sometimes looks more like the aftermath of an intense battle rather than someone’s sleeping quarters – to drop something off. As I passed by their desk on the way out of the room, I noticed two intriguingly familiar, rather worn letters sitting on the desk. I stooped over and noticed the date on the top letter – February 8, 2014, the day after Brayan moved in with us. Through the bleeding blue marker on both of the letters, my handwriting in black pen stood as strong as it was on the day I wrote it so many months ago. I immediately picked up the letters and read them, curious of what I had written to our new son so shortly after he had moved in with us. As my eyes traced the crumpled pages, my heart swelled with memories — the little breakthroughs, the moments of teeth-clenching frustration, the hugs, the wars, bedtime foot massages. Just this morning he volunteered to pray in our in-home Bible study. He has outgrown nearly all of his clothes in these last few months. We pray daily with him that God will form him into a man of justice and mercy, that someday he will be a good father and an honorable husband. So many thoughts and emotions flooded me as I stood with those two letters in my hands, feeling as though I held in my hands two pieces of raw history, long-lost historical documents about almost microscopically small, yet significant, events in God´s Kingdom.

The first was a welcome letter to our family, and the second a celebration for having given his life to Christ. God’s word says that He places the orphans in families, and in the most real sense possible God placed Brayan first in an earthy family and shortly after in the eternal one. The following are the two letters translated verbatim from their original Spanish to English.

February 8, 2014

Beloved son, Brayan:

I want you to know that you are in a home of peace, joy, discipline, and love. We love you because we have received the love of God and we want to share it with others. Thank you for your affection, patience, and love with Jason, Gleny, and Diana. Jason is very happy to have an older brother, and he really likes you. You have been a very good example for him in the way that you respect others, your desire to serve and help, and the spirit of peace that you have. We are going to be praying for you so that God enters your heart and you give your entire life over to Him so that you become a man of peace, mercy, love, and Truth. We are here to support you, guide you, love you, and be good parents for you. We love you, and in any moment or situation we are available to listen to you, hug you, and encourage you. Welcome to the family, Brayan.

With peace and love,

Jennifer, your mom

February 24, 2014

(Greeting not visible due to water damage)

There are no adequate words to express how happy your dad and I are that the other night you prayed with Uncle Erick and gave your life to Christ. Now we are members of the same eternal family! We have been praying for you since before you moved here so that you would give yourself to the Eternal God. God is faithful to answer the prayers of His people, thus he heard us and saved you. Thank you, Brayan, for working so hard Saturday morning to clean Uncle Erick’s bathroom, and thank you for working so well with Gleny to clean and organize our school. Thank you for all the affection that you give us, and thank you for your good work ethic in school. Your energy and strength are gifts from God, and now we will be praying that you find the way to serve God using that energy and strength that He has given you. We love you so much!

With a big hug,

Mom

Below are photos from Brayan´s recent fourteenth birthday party…

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

Somewhere Between the Family Photo Albums and The Chronicles of Narnia

June 7, 2014 jenniferzillycanales Leave a comment

June 6, 2014: Yesterday was my two-year anniversary since moving to Honduras as an idealistic recent college graduate. I arrived with nothing more that my large hiking backpack, a couple duffel bags, and a guiding determination that God had called me to be a mom to those who don’t have one.

Yesterday evening we celebrated that raw beginning and the miracle that God has worked out among us over the ensuing time. The community of believers who form the Living Waters Ranch – eleven in all, including my husband and our four kids – put on a surprise two-year anniversary party for me as we remembered the ways in which God has provided and guided as we shared stories and ate around our long wooden table. And of course there were balloons and homemade posters and cards, as is typically our party preference.

After night fell and we all began cleaning the kitchen and putting everything in its place, I wandered back to our home (which is separate from our common-area kitchen that we all share), where I stood in silence in the open doorway to our sons’ room, being taken down a landslide of memories over the previous 730 days, feeling as though I were standing on holy ground in a museum that could quite accurately be titled How God Has and Will Provide or God Alive and at Work in Our World.

The soft light of our porch dimly illuminated the empty room as my eyes traveled carefully, sentimentally, over the shadows to study each object I saw. I took in the large homemade posterboard hung on their light blue wall with ducktape – “Beloved Brayan, Welcome to the Family” – that the children painted in large, uneven letters for their new brother when he came home with us February sixth. I saw Jason’s new cartoon pijamas layed out on his dresser, ready for him to bounce home and change for bed. My eyes wandered to Brayan’s top bunk, made, although messily, with his stuffed bright yellow dragon and two teddy bears tossed about near his pillow. Toy motorcycle, wooden model airplane unassembled, full clothes hamper. Black rubber boots that I emptied the water out of earlier that day, almost expecting a frog or two to come hopping out. Brayan’s Bible sitting on his dresser, coloring books and school notebooks strewn about on top of their shared wooden desk along with art supplies and probably too many bottles of glue. Through their open window our multicolored hammock that we received as a wedding present from our mentors last June also caught my attention as it hung quietly, as if it, too, sleeps during the night. My gaze danced and re-danced over all that I saw, feeling as though I might explode from emotion but at the same time brought down to a very still sense of calm, of awe.

Standing, listening attentively to any word God might speak in the depths of my heart, taking in the significance of all that I saw, I then tried to meticulously erase each item from sight. I took away first the desk, then the poster, followed by the rest of the items in the room one-by-one, chronologically, the most recent items disappearing first. The Lord then led me into the sacred act of remembering, remembering how not even a year ago this room was completely bare, lifeless, a dream waiting patiently yet eagerly to be fulfilled.

My mind’s eye then began filling the empty room – first the dresser arrived, followed by the wooden bunkbed, then the mattresses, then Jason appeared and Brayan shortly after. Now this once-bare room is someone’s room. Or rather two rather precious and naughty someones.

I must have spent close to twenty minutes in that doorway in the still of the night, the muffled voices and activity in our nearby kitchen seeming lightyears away, trying to adequately understand and appreciate all that the Lord has done, provided, orchestrated in these two short years. The stillness – the screaming calm – in our home answered that which reverberated in my heart.

I then shifted my stance in the doorway, turning, and began to study our living room, which always seems to comfortably hold however many people are in it. My eyes began to slowly sweep the fairly small room, from our piano at which Darwin plays and Diana and Brayan practice to our two tall bookshelves occupied by framed photos, art projects, Christian and parenting literature, children’s books, various puzzles, and toys. The girls’ bedroom door also opens into our living room, around which there is a bright pink boa and black cut-outs of butterflies neatly taped in a row. Two large and rather full bulletin boards, bucket of Legos, chipped blue paint on the walls revealing the cinderblocks underneath.

After having spent several hours that day organizing our home, doing laundry, sweeping and mopping, and putting everything in order, I treasured the few minutes I could take it all in in uninterrupted tranquility before several high-energy little people would burst through the door and rather adeptly un-do any housekeeping measures that had been taken. My heart meditated on God’s goodness, how He puts everything in order, has put everything in order. As I mulled this over, kneading it carefully into the fabric of my understanding, I then tenderly packaged up and placed these first two years of faith, of joy and struggle, of God’s provision, on our bookshelf somewhere between the family photo albums and the Chronicles of Narnia.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

To Give One’s Life

May 20, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

Recently at home two of us adults were talking in private with a child to solve a disciplinary issue. The child sat on a seat in front of us, arms crossed, their little brow furrowed, stealing glances at the two of us while their gaze remained otherwise fixed on their feet dangling in front of them. To see the child in such a closed, stand-offish position truly was an ugly site to see. After a long discussion, praying together, and the assignment of a punishment, we concluded the time with the child by talking about Christ’s love for us and our love for the child. The disciplinary issue was mainly between the child and me, so the other adult talked about how a parent’s discipline for their child stems out of their immense love for them. The child, still avoiding any kind of emotional connection, continued studying their swaying feet. When asked if the child was certain of my love for them, the child stubbornly shook their head ‘no’ and said that I do not, in fact, love them.

My eyes grew wide and my heart sank, feelings of devastation and a fiery tinge of anger welling up inside me as I thought, “How on earth can you say that I don’t love you? Do you not realize I’ve given my life for you – ¨

And in that moment my thoughts took an immediate detour as I heard Christ’s words perhaps more distinctly than ever before. “I have given my life for you. And how many times do you, Jennifer, question my love, behaving like this stubborn, narrow-minded child? Accept my love – believe that I love you abundantly, just as you wish that your children would believe of you.”

My heart sank even more, my devastation at the child’s remark turned into the cutting realization of my own hardness. I then turned in inward repentance to my savior, confessing, “I will believe you, Lord. I will not question your character and love.” Peace and a newfound understanding and acceptance for Christ’s love flooded my body.

A couple days later, things having long been smoothed over with the upset child but still without any open admittance of my love for them, the child and I rode in one of Honduras’ public buses on our way to town, the child comfortably nested in my lap as we both enjoyed the view our window seat provided of vast pineapple fields, the mountain range that marks the landscape, and small shops and restaurants along the way. I felt in my heart that the issue was still unresolved for me – is the child convinced of my love and only said otherwise in an outburst of rebellion and anger, or do they truly feel that I do not love them? I whispered their name, and immediately an eager young face peeked up at me, and I asked gently, “You know that I love you, right?” And without delay their little head bobbed up and down and I heard their confident reply, “Yes.”

My heart sighed with relief and thanksgiving, and I felt a tangible sense of peace and unity borne between the two of us as we settled in for the ride to town. As the child sat wrapped in my embrace, I felt the two of us enveloped in that of the Father’s.

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

A Late Night Hullabaloo

May 15, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 3 Comments

We were getting ready for dinner – Jenae was in the kitchen finishing the preparations while Diana and Brayan practiced their flutes in the adjoining dining room, taking breaks to do silly dances to their music and laugh together. Gleny sat practicing her flute tranquilly after having hand-washed her clothes, and Jason was doing some version of a cartwheel around the dining room floor because he and I already spent time practicing his flute. I sat sorting beans at our long wooden table as I watched them, taking in the palpable joy all around me. All that afternoon and evening we had enjoyed an unusually light, jovial time together. We typically have to make a concerted effort to maintain peace among the four children and keep things running smoothly, so I found myself with a quirky grin creeping onto my face and gratitude exploding in heart as I looked around at each person fulfilling their role with exceptional delight, even sublimity. Dinner was likewise a joyful occasion, and during the prayer I didn’t let my lips mutter what I was singing in my heart: Peace! True joy! Thank you, Father. Thank you for the immeasurably precious gifts that only You can give. Peace.

As the meal wound down and we began the after-dinner clean-up routine, I leaned over and told Gleny that I needed to talk with her outside in private. I purposefully said it just loud enough so that everyone would hear me. I laughed in my heart as I thought about what their reaction would be to what only I knew I was about to do. They all perked up just as I suspected they would, and they looked at me and then her with curiosity, wondering why I would pull her aside when there was no seen disciplinary infraction to be discussed.

Gleny looked up at me eager to please but also visibly a bit nervous about what our one-on-one chat might hold. She finished eating quickly, grabbed my hand, and we walked down the few concrete dining room steps that lead to our front lawn.

Folding my lanky six-foot frame down to her level, I looked her in the eyes and asked, my quirky smile creeping back onto my face, “Gleny, what did you not do today?”

Her eyes began darting back and forth as she rapidly searched her mind for some uncompleted task or missed homework assignment. I didn’t want to leave her with that feeling of pending judgment for long, so after a couple seconds I said with a big smile, “You didn’t yell! Not even once!”

Her eyes immediately lit up in recognition of the fact that after such intense daily struggle for so long with raging emotions, she finally had an entire day in which she didn’t blow up in anger at one of her siblings. Now both of our smiles matching and growing, she agreed and jumped up and down, “I didn’t yell today!”

Before she had time to say or do anything else, I swept her up in my arms bridegroom style and began sprinting – well, running as fast as one can with a laughing nine-year-old in their arms – across our dark front lawn under the night’s full moon and letting out a continuos “Woooo-hoooooooooo!” like a person who has truly lost their mind.

She immediately began whooping with me, and there we ran in big circles, her bobbing up and down in my arms, hollering at full capacity and celebrating God’s faithfulness in hearing our prayer for peace in Gleny’s heart. “Praise God! Wooooooo!” We shouted as I ran with diminishing speed around our lawn. At one point, laughing as my arms began to weaken and shake, my big toe hit one of the many rocks in our yard and I almost face-planted with the little girl in my arms. I stumbled into recovery, laughing even harder than before, and we continued with our run-whoop back and forth across the lawn.

It didn’t take long for us to draw the people from the kitchen out to see us, and soon Jason was running behind us, arms in the air and hoots and hollers coming out of his mouth even though he had no idea what we were celebrating. Brayan stood on the concrete steps, watching us with intrigue as the rest continued with their tasks in the kitchen as if a whooping mother-daughter combo were as normal as a day with such sweet peace as the one we had just experienced…

Family, God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection

To Make the Radishes Grow

April 23, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 2 Comments

“That can be a sign that she sees you as compulsive, as being more interested in tasks than in being attentive to the people in your life.” I listened intently as the psychologist explained one of our daughter’s drawings, pointing to the pencil-sketch of me washing laundry in the ‘family’ drawing. “Typically, if a child draws his or her mother cooking food or with a child, it portrays an affectionate and loving spirit, a mother who is interested in providing for the needs of her family members. When a mother is depicted as cleaning in their child’s drawing, it shows that the child feels she can be impulsive and too task-oriented.”

I knew the psychologist was right.

That was several weeks ago, and between that newfound understanding and several others like it, God is helping me to recover from an over-achieving, do-er attitude and to rest in the perfect peace He intends for us, to learn how to love again.

Even yesterday, after having spent over eight hours between homeschool, preparing breakfast and lunch for the family, and coordinating various chore assignments, in the afternoon when Gleny asked eagerly if I could sit with her and work on her coloring book, I felt an immediate pull to escape, to go do something instead of be with her. My first thought was But I need to sweep the house and…

But I could feel Christ’s gentle pull to just rest and be. To love and enjoy this little girl that He has placed in my life — this princess of His — and color some panda bears and dolphins all the shades of the rainbow.

This urge to go and do, although many times it is in God’s name and for the intended benefit of others, has led me to a season of stress and very intense insomnia. I believe I am finally on the recovery swing, and after having many things stripped from me, He has shown me that in my own strength – however fast I ran the timed mile in high school or however many times I have joyfully hiked up mountainsides with family and friends – I can literally do nothing. He has taken me down from whatever tower of deeds I had constructed for myself, and shown me that apart from Him, I am nothing. The peace over our household, the radishes that we harvest from our backyard, every breath I take – all come from His grace. I cannot demand that peace dwell in the hearts of my loved ones, nor can I make the radishes grow or will my own lungs to work. All is an outflowing of God’s incomprehensible grace.

Several mornings in the last few weeks, I have felt God calling me to rise early, to find Him in the still, quiet hours before there is too-loud music playing on the stereo and several children constantly clamoring for my attention. I have oftentimes stood on our porch in amazement during the chilled, tranquil mornings, a very tangible sense of awe sweeping over me as I look out at the mist covering the mountain range behind our home, the birds of paradise beginning their early calls, another perfect day spilling forth from the heart of the Creator. In those early-morning moments, He tells me to slow down, to awaken to His breathtaking beauty and to just receive who He is.

One biblical passage that we read frequently with the children and in our personal lives is Jesus’ radical call not to worry – about clothes, food, drink, or what tomorrow may bring. I oftentimes become frustrated when the children don’t ‘get it.’ When they still worry about food or have seventy-three questions about what we are going to do tomorrow. When they want to control others or feel they must fight for their place. But they know Jesus’ command and claim to be his followers, I think. In all of this time, however, I,more than anyone else, have missed the point. I have had my gaze too intently fixed on the preoccupations of tomorrow, fret about next month’s finances or try to peek into what next year might bring. I have proclaimed Jesus’ call to genuine trust while secretly allowing worry to eat away at my gut, trying to take matters into my own hands, under my own control, rather than falling into the hands of the Living God.

I will now fall. I will now obey, rest. I will trust that He will bless our home with peace, that He, not I, will make our radishes grow, that He will orchestrate my next breath. And even when the kids don’t behave peacefully or the crop fails or my lungs stop, I know in the depth of my heart that He is still good, that His love began before the conception of this world and will continue after it is gone, that everything from the beauty of the morning mist to Gleny’s sloppy cheek kisses to Jesus’ death on the cross is an outpouring of His incomprehensible grace, a manifestation of His majesty.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.¨

Jesus of Nazareth in the book of St. Matthew 6:25-34

God At Work Among Us, Personal Reflection, Teaching, The Gifted and Talented Program

Even for Just One

March 25, 2014 jenniferzillycanales 1 Comment

One by one the majority of the students in my fourth-sixth grade Gifted and Talented program at the local school where I taught full-time last year and continue part-time this year came in as I was setting up for our usual Friday afternoon class to tell me, “Miss Jennifer, I won’t be coming to class today.” Their reasons seemed legitimate as they told me of the school-wide science fair and how they either had a competing project or wanted to see their classmates’ creations, and I thanked each child sincerely for having the respect to come and let me know that I should not expect them that afternoon although I was slightly disappointed with the news of the science fair’s conflicting schedule with my class.

But in my heart I rejoiced, thinking Yes, I can just cancel the class due to low attendance and spend time resting, reading my Bible, preparing for the coming week, and getting ready for the girls’ basketball practice that will begin in a few hours. I had spent a week in a warzone between our four children who are all struggling with the adjustment of having a new sibling, plus the continuing adjustment of dealing with their pasts, being in a new homeschooling program, accepting Darwin and I as parents, etc. The week had been filled with bouts of jealousy, various children declaring that they felt unloved or outright accusing us of favoring one child over another, the children forming teams against one another, feeling as though they need to struggle or compete to earn their spot in the family or classroom, playing the victim, and putting others down to feel better about themselves. Every day it seemed like each child had at least one eruption or shut-down, and our week was filled with stress, long prayers, varying punishments, discussion upon discussion about what it means to show the love of God to others, and so forth. I just wanted to collapse from mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion, and I thought What an unexpected gift that I won’t have to teach today –

And then in came one of my eager fourth-grade students, and with a fake smile on my face I anticipated his science-fair excuse and cut him off, “Oh, it’s okay, I know there’s the science fair. Go enjoy it and we’ll just wait to have class until next week.” And somehow my exhausted cheek muscles forced out a reassuring smile, expecting him to accept my proposition as valid and leave.

“No!” And his face dropped, “I really want to have the class this afternoon…” and he looked confused about why I was considering canceling.

And I thought Dang it, why doesn’t he just go to the science fair? Doesn’t he realize I’m on the brink of some kind of breakdown?

I then asked tiredly if it would just be him or if others were also planning on attending our class, and he confirmed that there was at least one or two others who had said they would arrive. I thought, trying desperately to justify myself in canceling the class, If there are just two or three kids – when there are nearly twenty enrolled in the program – it’s not worth it. It’s better just to wait until next week when we’ll have full attendance.

Then, as has happened so many times, Jesus’ words cut to my core “Even if there were just one person — one sinner — in the whole world, I still would have died for that person. Even for just one. Numbers don’t matter. Look at this eager little boy and accept him as I would – invite him in and teach him of Me and my ways. He matters to me. As I said to my Father in anguish before dying on the cross, have Your will be done, not mine.”

Then, even with rebellion – I might even call it self-defense – crying out in my heart, I told him that, yes, we would have class because numbers don’t matter, and in my heart I knew that having the class would be a submission of my will to God’s. His eyes immediately lit up, and he left the room and began shouting loudly to his comrades, “Let’s go! It’s time for Miss Jennifer’s class!” And I laughed and quickly stumble-ran out of the room to the school’s balcony where he stood to tell him to stop shouting because class wasn’t scheduled to start for twenty more minutes and, as he and my other students know, I am allergic to unneeded noise.

His eager little face then appeared periodically in my window over those next twenty minutes as he squinted to see the agenda I was scribbling on the whiteboard and to catch a glimpse of the learning materials I was preparing for them. My rebellious heart broke and I thanked God for having guided me into loving obedience.

That day five enthusiastic fourth-graders arrived in my classroom and we had an incredibly fruitful time that began with an in-depth reading of the words of Saint James: Religion that is pure and faultless in God’s eyes is this: to take care of widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself clean from the corruption of the world. From there each of us – myself included – spent about twenty minutes drawing what that means – not only the aspect of helping those in distress, but what it means to keep oneself pure from all of the destruction and sin in our world – be it pride, love of money, hatred, materialism, lies, sexual impurity, etc. We then continued on with a writing exercise in their journals with a given open-ended prompt, followed by an exercise I have invented called Rapid Math, and finished with a logic game, all interspersed with dynamic dialogue about what it means to know and follow the True God.

Throughout my two-hour time with my students, I recalled my husband Darwin’s words that he spoke at his cousin’s home recently. His cousin, who is married, in his late fourties, and a very wealthy businessman, had asked Darwin sincerely about the life of Teresa Devlin, the elderly missionary under whom Darwin worked and was mentored by at La Ceiba’s Music Conservatory for over ten years. Darwin answered sincerely, “She spoke frequently and sincerely of Christ as she ran the Music Conservatory, but the majority of the students and teachers received the message of Jesus with deaf ears. I heard the message and was saved. Basically I am the product of her 15 years in Honduras, and her mission was fulfilled through my life.” I remember looking at my husband in a new way – and not only him but also the life of Teresa Devlin and God’s infinite and tireless power – with renewed awe, respect, and determination.

Even for just one, it is worth it. For one life turned toward Christ – even if it takes several years, frustration and despair over those who are lost, and daily struggle – it is worth it. Even if you or I or someone’s student or your grandchild or that terrible boss were the only human being alive on the face of the earth, Christ would have willingly died for that one person as He did for the multitudes. May we never judge our success, failure, or the value of our efforts on numbers.