Tag Archives: child abuse

Answers to Illegal Immigration to U.S. Borders, Central America, Family, God At Work Among Us, Information About the Mission, Personal Reflection, Prayer Requests, Special Needs Kids

A Recovering Control Freak’s Manifesto: Abandoning My Will for God’s

1 Comment

A couple days ago I lay with a light bed sheet covering my entire body and tucked up and around my face – the little air-conditioned room where I was receiving the IV was very chilly, and my body was not accustomed to the artificially cold air after having gone several years without it. As I lay there, my eyes studied the bright yellow liquid in the hanging bag that made its way one drop at a time into my veins. I then glanced at the tall window  at the foot of the bed that lorded over the tiny room, and I laughed at my predicament.

I have Typhoid fever again along with an aggressive virus, and at the worst of times!

After having spent the duration of the day running around the city for various health-related appointments, blood work, etc, and having walked more than a few blocks under the blistering sun because our car was in the mechanics’, I lay still on the hard little bed and marveled at God’s faithfulness, even to this sick little servant of His. Surely He should have picked someone with a stronger immune system than I to participate with Him in such a work! (But have I not struggled with insomnia, various tropical illnesses, etc, almost without respite these last five years, and has He not fulfilled His will even in the midst of my own weakness?)

Just hours prior I had visited the child protective services’ humble government building hoping to give some kind of follow-up to Katy’s case. Darwin and I had continued praying for the little girl over the last several days, asking Father God to indicate to us what to do. First our 16-year-old daughter Dayana and then 12-year-old Josselyn, Katy’s older biological sister who has been living with us nearly two years, had both approached us independently, telling us they felt that we should bring Katy to our home to raise her. After all, Father God had confirmed the same in our hearts, but a week had gone by and we had yet to act. I had thought rebelliously: But I’m sick! Right now I don’t want to receive a new child; I just want to lay my spinning head down! Bring the new child when I’m feeling like Wonder Woman!

But even as I lay there in that chilly, isolated room I knew there comes a time when the rubber of obedience must hit the road; we mustn’t sit around ‘waiting for answers’ all day when He has plainly showed us the path we are to take.

Thus, earlier that day I found myself entering that little government building and seeking out one of the head lawyers, a very kind Christian woman who works closely with the social worker who had accompanied me on the visit the week prior. I was in a cold sweat and more than slightly dizzy as she allowed me to enter her small workspace to talk. Our prayer over the last several days had been: Lord, if it is Your will that Katy come to live with us, open doors (and hearts) in the government agency, and compel them to move forward on the case.

Without this, there was nothing we could do.

The female lawyer and I received one another with a warm hug, and I sat down in front of her desk to share with her what was on my heart. I told her of Katy’s visibly poor condition, and that I feared that she was in the same situation of sexual abuse that our Gabriela had been in not two years prior.

The lawyer seemed stilled and completely attentive, which is no small miracle considering the mounds of paperwork and emergency visits that she is responsible for each day. Oftentimes when we enter the extremely under-staffed building, it seems like everyone is running around with their hair on fire, consumed entirely by the ‘urgent’ perhaps rather than the ‘important’. We have certain specific legal actions we have been requesting from them for years, but their wait-line of ‘emergencies’ is so long that they have yet to get around to our kids’ adoption, creating birth certificates for a couple of our girls, giving us vital paperwork that was due months ago, etc. Getting the Honduran government to move quickly is no task for mortal man!

So when the lawyer put aside her mound of papers, gave me her undivided attention and – what’s more – seemed to really ‘get’ the root of what I was talking about not only on a professional level but also with profound compassion, I suddenly felt convinced that it was God’s will that Katy come live with us. The lawyer assured me that she would put it on her calendar to go out to Katy’s home next Wednesday to investigate the situation further and, quite likely, remove her that same day.

I thanked her several times for her availability and collaboration, although, before leaving the office, I felt compelled to say more. My mind spun in a few circles as I fought hard to focus, as is one of the symptoms of Typhoid fever. I continued, carefully: “I have to tell you that Katy also has a little brother. I have not seen him, but our girls have told us about him and I believe he is roughly 4 years old. I hope to God that he is okay and can remain living in his family situation – because the Lord knows we already have a lot of our plate! – but when you go out to their home to investigate Katy’s case on Wednesday, it is possible that you will see him and may feel that he, too, is in danger and needs to be removed from their home. If that is the case –” I breathed deeply, remembering that all of this is about fulfilling God’s will rather than our own “– we can accept him too.”

Once the entirety of that sentence escaped my mouth, I knew there was no turning back. I began laughing slightly at the absurdity of it all – I felt I was about to pass out, and just walking from the parking lot to the seat where I sat had been laborious, yet here I found myself on the brink of receiving possibly two new, severely broken little guys! Oh, God, help me! This truly is a task we cannot do alone!

The lawyer completely understood, and I continued, possibly to affirm my own faith in God’s goodness rather than for her benefit. I spoke slowly, again choosing each word carefully: “The path we have travelled with little Gabriela – her recovery thus far from severe sexual abuse and malnutrition – has been a very intensive and trying process, but — by God’s grace — innocence is being recovered. She is learning to read; she hears God’s Word daily; and she is truly blossoming, although it is an arduous process…God has accompanied us during this process as we have been in over our heads on numerous occasions, and if He leads us to begin all over again with Katy – and possibly with the little boy as well…then He will give us the grace we need in order to love them well.” I spoke even slower as I reached the end of my statement: “He will give us the patience, the love and the energy that we lack.”

In my mind, a very clear image presented itself: Darwin and I arriving toward the finish line of a grueling 26.2-mile marathon. We were consumed with sweat and total exhaustion, hauling ourselves over that blessed end mark as we literally gave all we had, nothing left in reserves. We collapsed on the other side, having successfully finished the race – perhaps slowly, with several stops, not having won any kind of medal at all and probably limping more than half the way, but, by golly, we crossed the line – when someone came and announced, “Okay, go immediately back to the start line, and do it all again! Ready, set, go!” and the gun fired to commence the entirely unexpected second part of the marathon.

Wha-? Wait! …No!

I suddenly felt delusional as I stared at the entire race track that had suddenly been laid before us. But we had already run! We had already passed each of the landmarks, leaving drops of sweat, blood and tears all over the course! Maybe, just maybe, we could think about training again after a long period of resting, getting enough liquids and taking some time off, but right now? So soon? Oh, God, lead us to give more Bible studies or to teach more classes or do more community visits – anything but this!

Even as I felt led towards hysteria, I could not have been more convinced of God’s perfect will for our lives and for that of Katy and possibly her little brother. And, what’s more, I had total peace. Exhaustion and sickness, yes. Even dangerously low emotional reserves. But peace and confidence in the Living God who will doubtlessly come to our encounter as He already had, who will equip us from moment to moment to love those whom He is so clearly rescuing and bringing to our care. Peace; yes. I could not be convinced that God would have it any other way.

Outwardly the lawyer and I continued on in joyful, informative conversation for another twenty minutes or so as she inquired sincerely as to the wellbeing of our other kids, how Josselyn had received the news that she won’t be able to return to her biological family, etc. In every sense of the word it was a God-ordained visit, as such a sincere, unhurried conversation is not common in the Honduran sphere of legal matters and government agencies. At the end of the conversation I sensed that God was leading me to pray for her, so I asked her permission and we both extended our hands toward one another, heads bowed right there in her office, and we prayed.

And so, hours later, as I lay in that little bed with the needle in my hand, I rejoiced in my heart of hearts over what Father God is doing with us – is doing in me. Surely this is what it means to store up treasures in heaven; to seek first the Kingdom of God –to show His love to the least of these – before securing worldly comforts and control. Oh, yes, how I have loved control! How I have wanted to cling to my own plans! Oh, how I have wanted to chart out the next five years, check boxes off the list! But He is liberating me from all this and showing me a more excellent way. Secure within the Father’s will, I rest assured that if and when Katy and her little brother move into our household, He is already going before us, preparing even the smallest of details, and will be with us in the moment of trial, of exhaustion, of desperation. He has done miracles in the lives of our other children and teens – and even in the depths of our own hardened hearts – and I sensed He was anxious to begin doing it all over again with two new souls apt for rescue, for salvation.

I turned over in the little bed, the sheet tucked under my chin, and I felt that I had never been more at peace or more fascinated with my God.

A couple hours later, as the IV had finished and I sat on a bench waiting for the doctor to finish with another patient, I felt a bit anxious to get on the road because it was already our family’s Sabbath Hour and I had been gone all day. I wiggled around on the bench as the doctor’s wife, who serves as his assistant, came over to chit-chat with me while I was waiting.

I smiled at her and asked politely, “Do you know how much longer I’ll have to wait? It’s already past 6:00pm, and my husband’s been by himself all afternoon with our kids…”

Her face lit up at the mention of kids, and she inquired as to how many we had.

I laughed before the answer escaped my lips, because I already knew what her reaction would be: “Eight.”

Her eyes doubled in size and her jaw crashed to the floor. (That is the typical reaction.) Before the poor lady had a heart attack, I quickly began explaining God’s calling on our life and that, no, I had not been through eight pregnancies by age 26.

It turned out the doctor’s wife is also a Christian, so that sparked a long and rather dynamic conversation between us as I suddenly found myself telling her the amazing stories of God’s redemptive work in our children’s lives.

Suddenly experiencing a burst of renewed energy, my voice picked up speed and my hands put themselves in motion in that little waiting room as I remembered that fateful, beautiful day back in November 2013 when God brought us our first three kids, the eldest of which is now on the cusp of turning 17 years old, “I mean, we had wanted to receive little children! Like 2 or 4 years old! As you can imagine, they supposedly bring less baggage…”

She nodded in agreement. I continued, “But when we entered that busy government complex with dozens of kids running around everywhere — me greeting little guys right and left, seeing tons of kids jumping around, sliding on swing sets! — and I suddenly laid eyes on her, God spoke to my heart and said as clear as day ‘She will be your daughter.'”

I jumped ahead to the part where the head honcho at the government agency brought us the three kids he had supposedly mentioned to us via telephone — a young sibling group with the eldest, a male, being nine years old. “And then the director came around the corner, not with the kids he had mentioned, but rather with the girl whom God had told me would be our daughter! There she was with her two younger siblings! I asked her how old she was…” I began laughing out loud as I continued onward in the very familiar story that has forever changed our lives: “…and she responded ’13.’ Thirteen!”

I continued as the doctor’s wife listened with eyes widened with intrigue, with glee: “You know that in this country girls who are 11, 12, 13 years old oftentimes already have children! I mean, to receive a 13-year-old girl into your home as a daughter — without knowing virtually any of her history! — is crazy!”

She nodded in total agreement. My mind spun, now not only from the Typhoid but also in joyful response to this sensation of fast-forwarding that I was mentally experiencing in regard to our journey with our eldest daughter. “Oh, her mother and the majority of her older female relatives are all prostitutes! It has been so hard to break those generational chains — we have been through so much with her, cried in desperation, felt we had reached our limit on dozens of occasions! — but I tell you that now, almost four years later, she is closely walking with the Lord and was publicly baptized last year! She continues to live in our home and under our authority; she is our daughter and we’re in the process of legally adopting her. God’s work has been great!”

To jump from beginning to present-day as I had just done — to remember and even share with someone else the reality in as few  words as possible of all that God has done over the course of these 2, 3 or 4 years (depending on each kid’s arrival date), does great things to encourage the heart. In the mundane, in the fire of the trial, in times of fasting and weeping on their behalf, it can perhaps be easily lost on us the miraculous, transformative work that God is doing in our midst. But to take it all in in a single snapshot: to remember the tragic, against-the-odds beginning, fast-forward the years of daily battles and victories, and take in the God-ordained present reality of redemption and transformation — wow! This gives me new fuel.

I felt greatly encouraged by God’s extremely visible hand over her life, and I added: “Being her mom — specifically her mom, not even mentioning our journeys with the other kids — has been absolutely the most difficult, most precious thing God has led me to do in this life. I’ve never done anything harder or more beautiful.”

And so, as one story led to the next and our dialogue deepened and expanded, sharing and encouraging one another in Christ, I left that little clinic under the dark night sky feeling more encouraged than I had expected to. I sensed it was a blessed joy sent specifically from God to lighten my heart during this current season: if our journey with Dayana, our eldest, has been so absolutely demanding — and so absolutely worth it, despite whatever happens in these coming years — can I not participate with Father God even now in anticipating another entirely unique redemptive story in Katy’s life? I felt Father God was rubbing His palms together enthusiastically with a big smile on His face, helping me to remember His absolute faithfulness towards us with each of our other kids as He wanted to incite my heart toward burning joy and great faith in regards to what He has in store for Katy and her little brother.

Please pray with and for us during this time, as the lawyer’s pending visit to investigate Katy’s living situation is three days away. Pray that nothing would interfere with her completing her promised visit, and that all the necessary people involved — Katy’s mom, Katy herself, etc — would be at home and willing to receive the government workers when they arrive Wednesday morning. Please pray, too, for my health, as my activities have been extremely restricted over the last several days and I’ve had to visit a local clinic to receive additional IV treatments since. Pray that the Typhoid fever would be eliminated from my body along with this long-standing virus so that I may regain health and vitality.

Thank you! Amen!

Answers to Illegal Immigration to U.S. Borders, Bible study, Central America, Child/Youth Leadershp, Family, Farm Life, God At Work Among Us, Homeschool, Information About the Mission, Living Waters Ranch Primary School, Personal Reflection

Red Ink, Blue Ink and Pencil: The Next Chapter

Leave a comment

As I saw the hand-written note carefully wedged in the handle of our dining room door my heart sunk as I sensed I already knew what the contents would hold.

I had been granted the rare treat that morning of being home alone as Darwin had taken all of our kids to town with him to a music session. It was Saturday, and I had spent the morning in our quiet home writing and praying. 15-year-old Brayan — that same young man who lived with us for 8 months in 2014 and has since been heavily involved in school with us, discipleship and occasional family outings — had asked permission to be in our school building that morning working on his homework assignments alone, as his general focus level is very low and he’s thus unable to work effectively in his step-mom’s house in the midst of younger siblings and much activity.

I had not seen or heard from him all morning as he was holed up in our school building with his notebooks and audio learning tapes while I was holed up in our cinderblock home with my own quiet activities.

It was early afternoon when I came upon the carefully folded-up letter wedged in the door on my way to get water from the open-air kitchen that the three small buildings on our property share.

I immediately knew the letter was from Brayan, and I felt my eyes could see right through the lined notebook paper to the inside of its contents, read the entire letter without unfolding it.

I un-wedged the little note from the door handle and cradled it in my hands for a few moments, just staring at it and wanting to delay the inevitable. It’s like getting a life-changing phone call or having your pregnancy test come back positive; for better or worse, your life will never be the same again afterward.

Darwin and the rest of the kids far from our rural property, I breathed slowly as my heart increased the beat of its rhythm. I took a step back from the emotion of the present moment as I very intentionally situated myself under God’s perfect will, staving off my own rebellion with something greater. I breathed those increasingly familiar words once more, bracing myself for what would come next. “Father, may Your will be done, not mine…”

A sense of very selfish dread filled my chest not because I feared some vulgar message or devastating piece of news scribbled inside but rather because I knew he was right.

I unfolded it and realized it was not one page but two. Front and back. Wobbly cursive hand-writing that must have taken all morning to perfect. One paragraph written in red ink, then the next in blue, then the next in pencil. The entire document was written like this, alternating between colors. Paragraph after paragraph, the pattern never broke. Red ink, blue ink, pencil.

At the end of the second page, there were three hearts, one in red ink, one in blue and the other in pencil.

Brayan, our beloved “martian child” who in the past couple years had not managed to pass fifth grade despite his many efforts in our accelerated program for older students — whose emotions (and body) have been hammered by pain and abandonment from a very young age — did, in fact, write exactly what I had feared. And worse, for once he was being logical.

Please, God, give me a solid reason to say no because I certainly can’t think of one.

What about that quickly-fading (and extremely selfish) dream of mine of attaining some sense of ‘normal’ someday? What about the under-control household environment, the small collection of beautiful, high-achieving biological children? Brayan is possibly the worst student academically that we have! And — and we have so many daughters! Surely this would just feed the chaos. Why can’t we just keep on going as we have been this year with him — a friendly, mentor-type relationship, but at a safe distance? And our house is so small; we’re going to have to start piling people one on top of the other to make everyone fit! Please give me a reason to say no…

My rebellion continued as my ego turned red-hot and stamped its feet: If we are going to take in kids who sprung from another woman’s womb, at least bring us ones that are ready for a quick recovery! May they have bright, active minds — may they be able to fully integrate into productive society! But the broken ones, the ones who will forever need emotional crutches, who will probably never really spread their wings and fly? I mean, we already have developmentally-challenged Gabriela and Josue who have more needs than anyone can fill. Oh, Father…

In this past year we’ve made it a habit to tell our kids that there is nothing they could ever do that could make us stop loving them. Good decisions, bad decisions — it doesn’t matter. God has placed us in their lives to show them daily — over the long haul that is the rest of our lives — what His love is for us, and it’s unconditional. They can rest in our love as we all rest in God’s; we’re not going away nor will we ever abandon them.

Was I prepared to look Brayan in the eyes and say the same thing to him, day after day?

My eyes wearily took in the heart-breaking multi-colored paragraphs that I know he pined over all morning, searching for just the right words. And, even as my own ego rebelled against his request, my Father confirmed in my heart what I had known all along: our prodigal son would be coming home.

His step-mother, the very hard-working woman up to her thighs in poverty who had been taking care of him all year, would be sending him away to another town to live with his biological mom (who abandoned him in his infancy and since then has had almost zero role in his life) once he finished his school year this month because she could no longer manage the heavy burden that Brayan presents.

His step-mother had every right to do so — it was not her choice to be Brayan’s sole guardian after his father (the step-mom’s husband) died a few years ago. But Brayan — and I — understood what that would mean. No more school, no more guidance. He is, after all, too old to be in a public elementary school, and very few people have been granted the grace to love Brayan well. He would be sentenced to a life of probably wandering around aimlessly, very far geographically from the love and Biblical guidance that we provide him daily. No more Bible study, no weekly trips with us to the park, no fun birthday parties, choir trips, and prayer groups. Just a life of being cut off from the only real source of love he’s possibly ever known.

We were and always have been the family that God has blessed this young man with, even if over the last two years it has been at arm’s length.

So he asked several times and in several different ways — and with several different shades of ink — if he could move back in with us. He asked for forgiveness for the times he’s disrespected us, not followed the rules. He asked again and again, and it broke my heart even as my mind rattled off its last few objections and then eventually gave up.

He wasn’t the one who needed to ask for forgiveness; it was us.

We had been the ones to be too impatient with him, earnestly seeking harvest where we should have been concerned only with sowing. Had we not thrown up our hands in exasperation so many times with Brayan, unable to see any light at the end of what seemed to us to be a never-ending tunnel? (And had we not found ourselves in very similar stages of frustration with each and every one of the kids under our care, but had we not persevered with them where we hadn’t with Brayan?)

And so, six days after receiving that multi-colored note, Brayan moved back in with his cardboard box-full of belongings. Darwin, Brayan, and I went to sign all the paperwork down at the local government office to allow him to legally begin living with us again (which turned out to be no paperwork at all because the lawyer who had agreed to meet with us was out of the office and the other lawyer just spoke with me briefly and jotted down Brayan’s name on a little piece of paper before letting us go). First I then Darwin embraced Brayan bear-hug style with a big grin on our faces that matched that of his. God’s glory among us was palpable as we surely displayed the appearance of people who genuinely like — love — one another, something that in this culture is very rarely shown even among biological family members. The middle-aged female lawyer who had spoken with me in her office just observed us from a careful distance with a curious expression on her face. Why on earth were Darwin and I — and this rogue young man who has no other place to live, no real love in his life, so many reasons to be depressed and angry — so joyful, and how on earth did we feel such freedom so as to hug him? The majority of the minors who are admitted into foster families or children’s homes are little children — not towering young men with budding facial hair. Why had this abandoned, broken teenager chosen to find refuge in a Christian family rather than a gang?

So as we sat around the dining room table together that first night as a 10-again family (two parents and 8 kids), Dayana — who had shared our little cinderblock home with him during his first round in our household back in 2014 — smiled ear-to-ear and said, “Welcome home again, Brayan.”

Since his move home, these first twenty-two days have been off to a blessed start. In the wee hours of each morning Darwin gets Brayan up, they both slip on their rubber boots and old work clothes and head out to the barn together to milk the cows. Whereas during his first round of living in our home he and Darwin often butted heads like two of those male mountain goats that you see on Discovery Channel, both wanting to knock the other one off the mountainside, now he and Darwin wrestle together for fun, poking each other and giving the other a hard time with a big smile on their face. Whereas in his early times in our household nearly three years ago he was a loud, uncontrollable young man with extreme impulses, he is now much calmer, more mature and smiles frequently (as is consistent with his behavior this year in school with us). Darwin calls him “Brayan Big Beard” due to the little budding facial hairs on his upper lip, and Brayan adds a good dose of testosterone to our household after having previously been dominated almost entirely by young women. The girls are putting into practice good, healthy limits as is he, and we are all clinging to God’s grace each day as we are trusting with all our might that this is what He’s asked us to do.

Amen! Glory to God!

Other posts written about our journey following God’s will with Brayan: It All Started With a Cup of Water (February 2014), Our Favorite Neighbor (October 2014), “Hola Ma” (July 2015) and A Million Pinpricks of Light: The Hand of God in a Dark World (January 2016)

Community Life, Family, God At Work Among Us, Information About the Mission, Living Waters Ranch Primary School, Living Waters Ranch Secondary School

More Prayer Requests

1 Comment

Freedom for Our Teen and Pre-Teen Girls

There are certain destructive behavioral patterns that we are discovering first-hand are extremely common in young women who have suffered sexual and/or other types of abuse. One after another the daughters in our household – the five older ones ranging in age between 11-15 – are revealing these patterns of behavior with striking similitude. Please join us in prayer with and for their total liberation from bondage, destructive behaviors, feelings of inadequacy/being unwanted, etc, so that they can walk in wholeness and freedom as is God’s good plan for their lives. Pray that they may truly see Father God as a good, protective, loving parent and that they may turn wholeheartedly to Him to find strength, refuge, and Truth. We have seen several small, tangible victories in our girls’ walk with Christ in regards to these ongoing battles, but there is still much territory to be gained.

 

Battle Against Typhoid Fever

On Monday I was diagnosed with two strains of Typhoid Fever after having struggled with constant fever, weakness, migraines and confusion during the past 3+ weeks. I had previously gone in to get bloodwork to test for Dengue Fever and a host of other possibilities (the tests came back negative), so I got several IV treatments and injections at a local clinic in hopes of fighting off my undiagnosed fever as if it were a common virus that’s been going around, but the treatments had no effect. I am thankful that we finally know what I have so that we can treat it – I am currently on a 5-day series of shots in the butt that are specifically designed to combat Typhoid Fever, so hopefully by Saturday or Sunday I should be feeling much better. These past few days I’ve been restricted to bed-rest, which has been frustrating but probably for the best. Please continue to pray for my ongoing struggles with insomnia as well – my sleep patterns improved a bit during the month of February, but in the past couple weeks I’ve returned to old patterns of tossing and turning several nights a week without being able to fall asleep.

 

Prayer Groups Established with Students

Last week the Lord steered us in a new direction: we now have prayer groups every Tuesday and Thursday for about half an hour immediately after we finish our Bible study with the 28 students (elementary + high school), the laborers (teachers, cook, cleaning lady, Darwin and I), and our 8 kids. Each of the laborers break off into a small group with several students/kids to share needs, give thanks, and pray. It has thus far been a very rewarding experience: at least half of our students are not Christians, so perhaps for the first time in their lives they are learning that God hears us and that He’s interested in our needs, triumphs, struggles, etc. Please pray with us against a spirit of joking or teasing (I have about 12 students in my group, and probably because they are nervous or afraid of what the others in the group may think, have adopted a too-playful attitude and are tempted toward poking fun at others or laughing constantly.) Please pray that all of us (students, laborers, etc) may receive a deeper revelation of God’s love and sovereignty and that we may turn to Him with deep reverence and gratitude. Pray also that His Spirit may move among us freely and that students may be brought to genuine repentance and renewal as we seek to bless God’s heart and seek His will.

Community Life, Family, Personal Reflection

Urgent Prayer Request (A Cry for Justice)

1 Comment

[Written Sunday, March 6, 2016]: Last night around 10:30pm my husband and I put on tall rubber boots and covered up in long pants and sleeves to protect us from the hungry mosquitos as we walked down the gravel road to the big front gate of the 17-acre property where we live and work.

We waited under the large lampposts for quite some time, swatting away hungry mosquitos, before finally turning around and returning home. Our night watchman, who is armed with nothing more than a flashlight, stood guard on his front porch about 100 yards away, having already done his rounds on the perimeter of the property and probably wondering why Darwin and I were doing such a strange night-walk.

The next morning (which is today), as we all got up and everyone started getting ready for the day, our older girls – who very well knew why we had taken that walk down to our large front gate – asked expectantly if the police had come as they had promised. We’ll be there is 10-15 minutes, the officer had told Darwin over the phone the night before. Well-acquainted with disappointments in these last several days, I didn’t even sugar-coat it and simply said, “No. Pa finally called the officer and he told us there was an auto accident on the highway that they had to attend to, so maybe they’ll come today.”

Sandra (15) and Jackeline (12) scoffed and mumbled, “They’ll never come.”

Last evening while our two eldest daughters – Dayana and Sandra (both 15 years old) – were at church with a local family whom they attend with several times per month, Sandra’s sexually abusive step-father (whom she was rescued from) found them and began harassing and threatening Sandra. He passed by the home of the family where they were spending a few minutes before attending the service, and began to verbally berate Sandra and Dayana, listing too accurately all of their movements over the last few weeks – the days and times they’ve left our home to attend music class or to work on a school assignment with their classmates, etc, evening listing the clothes they were wearing every time he’s seen them – telling them that he has ‘spies’ (his friends) in our little rural town (where he, too, lives) that are tracking their every move, and that he thinks that Sandra needs to come back home to him so that he can ‘care for her.’ The mother of the church-going family pulled Sandra inside the house (they were on the porch), and Sandra – obviously very shaken up – said she wanted to go home (to our house) immediately and not stay for the church service out of fear that he would go to the church and harm her.

She took a mototaxi (which is like a three-wheeled cross between a car and a motorcycle) up the long path to our home while Dayana decided to stay and attend the church service, seeing as the step-father is not directly looking to harm her, but Sandra.

Well, Dayana stayed, and later that evening (last night) she told us that as she was standing up to read one of the Bible verses in the church service, the step-dad showed up at the back door aggressively looking for Sandra, and passed by several times after that. Once Dayana had begun her journey home in mototaxi after the service had ended, she saw the step-dad on the way (or rather he saw her), him trying to glance inside the open-air mototaxi to see if Sandra was with Dayana.

So Sandra got home first, and we listened to her and prayed, and then once Dayana got home a couple hours later we sort of repeated the whole process again, inviting 12-year-olds Josselyn and Jackeline (all four of the girls share a room in our home and, thus, a special sense of sisterhood) to join us as we all sat on our bedroom floor – Darwin and I and our four eldest daughters, as we talked openly about many different topics for what I think were several hours. Josselyn sat cuddled up in my lap, Dayana rested her head comfortably on a pile of clean laundry that Darwin and I had not yet put away, and we all sat more or less sprawled-out or propped-up in a circle sharing, counseling, listening and encouraging.

After having prayed, addressed the emotional needs and fears of our girls, and talked once more about the strongholds of abuse that Satan holds in the lives of so many (and how Father God wants to liberate them, see them walk in victory in His love), we then did an honest brainstorm of what-to-do, seeing as normal answers such as ‘let’s-call-the-police’ aren’t hardly worth mentioning.

Already in these past four or five days we have had close to a dozen nothing-comes-of-it encounters with the police about a (different) child molester who our students have seen roaming the long, lonely road up to our property and whom is known to have already sexually abused several children from our community. We’ve called the Honduran 9-1-1 to report the man several times, we’ve called the private cell-phones of several police officers who work in our area, and Darwin even made a face-to-face visit with the police officers at the local police station a couple days ago, and our efforts to protect our students from this man have produced a lot of mind-boggling frustration for us and not much else. And all we are asking is that the police – who have their official command post literally 1.2 miles from our home/mission! – do a once-a-day (or once-a-week, once-a-year!) patrol – in their car, on foot, however – just so that there is a police presence and, hopefully, the child molester gets spooked. The day that Darwin went to file the official complaint at the police station (after we had called with detailed information to no avail many, many times), the police officer who received the complaint just stared at Darwin blankly and said, “Just let us know when he abuses someone. Until then we can’t do anything.”

We’ve called and they’ve (falsely) promised to pass by at a specific time (Friday and then again last night), but the majority of the time they flat-out say that they can’t (won’t) do anything. One of the students in our high school shared in prayer group the other day that his 16-year-old sister was held at knifepoint a few days ago as a man from our small rural community tried to rape her, but thankfully she escaped. Their parents went to the police station the next day to report the man (and they know exactly who it was!), but the police said dryly, “We can’t do anything because 24 hours have already passed.” Our 12-year-old daughter Josselyn shared with us last night that her grandfather had raped a young woman many years ago and that the police had put him in jail. For two days.

‘Utter bewilderment’ and ‘rage’ and ‘exhaustion’ do not even begin to describe how Darwin, our kids and I currently feel toward the ‘justice’ system here. Just yesterday as we passed through the nearby city of La Ceiba in our old pickup truck with our 8 kids on our way home from a dentist appointment I read a new billboard, advertising the police, that says, “I called 9-1-1, I filed a complaint, and that was enough (as in, the police then reacted and brought justice to the situation.)” I scoffed and my heart began to fill with a certain rage that is becoming too familiar.

I do not want to become a scoffer, and I am keenly aware that a deep cynicism is threatening to consume me. This morning as I was in the shower – a small trickle of cold water falling over me – I asked the Lord, “What do we do? What would you have us to do?”

It is all too easy to sit around and invent apocalyptic nightmares, imaging the worst-case-scenario, becoming suspicious of everyone, generally giving in to fear and falling in the same pit as nearly everyone else. (The majority of people here fear leaving their homes at night, don’t send their kids on public transportation, build tall, barbed-wire prison-like walls around their homes and live under a very real cloud of constant fear and doom, which go directly against the peace-that-passes-understanding that Christ wants to bestow on us.)

Darwin and I have intentionally swung the other direction and have even begun discerning if we should go to the step-father’s home in a bold but loving confrontation and share with him God’s liberating Word, possibly inviting other Christian neighbors to join us.

So as I stood there, little drops of cold water sliding over my skin in the shower this morning, the only answer I heard immediately and clearly to my question of what-would-the-Lord-have-us-to-do was this: “Be still and know that I am God.”

So please pray with and for us right now, especially in regards to these two cases – Sandra’s step-father who is following and threatening her (and who knows where we live because our town is so small) and the other child molester who has been hiding out along the road to our home/mission and who several concerned students and parents have told me is trying to grab our students on their way to classes each morning. Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies and those who persecute us, so I ask for special prayers of deliverance, repentance and transformation for these two men, whether the Lord chooses to use us as His instruments to confront them or if He reaches them in anther way. Please pray God’s divine protection over all 28 of our students and over Sandra during this time of very real danger. Pray also for the police – that they may be prompted to begin patrolling the 1.2-mile stretch of gravel road that leads up to our property, and that they may actually begin responding to the people’s cries for justice. And, perhaps most importantly of all: pray that the Lord may saturate our hearts and minds with His perfect peace and that we may not fall prey to living in constant fear and dread. May we fear only God Himself and not men!

Amen!

Isaiah 9:1-7 [What we have been studying in our community Bible study]: Nevertheless, that time of darkness and despair will not go on forever…The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine. You will enlarge the nation of Israel, and its people will rejoice. They will rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest and like warriors dividing the plunder. For you will break the yoke of their slavery and lift the heavy burden from their shoulders. You will break the oppressor’s rod…The boots of the warrior and the uniforms bloodstained by war will all be burned. They will be fuel for the fire. For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity. The passionate commitment of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies will make this happen!