Half way up that hill

This is going to be long, and I don’t really expect many folks to read it.  Yet, a pretty solid plan for life is to do what you do regardless of the reactions of others.  Read it if you want.

Some time ago, I was in Honduras having what was one of the most important conversations of my life with a teenage girl from the ministry that I work with.  I won’t cover all the details, but this girl was more than upset, planned to leave the ministry for good, and I didn’t think I would ever see her again after a few days.  So we were talking about God.  Now, there are a lot of parts of my testimony that I don’t share with my girls at the farm.  Yet, for this conversation, I dove a little bit deeper.  I explained some of the darker parts of life that I had been through.  I described some of the trials and struggles I have had.  Then I explained how my God gives me love, a new life, and a purpose.  It wasn’t anything I had practiced, but it was all that I had.  My testimony and witness for God was greeted with a response I haven’t been able to forget.  This young girl replied, “Oh, you’re going to tell me to pray.  I am not going to pray.”  This ended the conversation.  I gave her a bible that I had been reading and writing in for the last year and we were done.

I know that doesn’t seem like a very interesting story, but it is something that has driven me since it happened.  With her response, I had nothing left to say.  Now, I know some bible verses.  I study the bible.  I’ve been in church since before I was born.  I’ve listened to more sermons and bible studies than I could possibly remember.  But with her response, none of that seemed to matter.  I didn’t have the right to talk to her any longer.  See, the girls that I work with down here in Honduras know struggle.  They know pain.  Most of my girls have been abandoned by their parents.  The people who were supposed to love and raise them tossed them aside.  They weren’t important enough.  Even worse, many of my girls have been abused.  Family members who should have encouraged and protected them treated them like trash or stood to the side while others used them.  When some of my girls were found, they were so malnourished that their teeth and hair fell out and their legs didn’t have enough meat to keep their socks up.  Some of my girls had sores all over their bodies from living outside with animals.  Some of my girls don’t know of a single family member in the world. 

And so this is what hit me.  It hit me that the washed up, melodramatic, over dramatized testimony about how dark and sad my life had been meant absolutely nothing to the girl I was talking to.  My pain is a flu shot, and her pain was being hit by a truck going 70 miles per hour.  My happy-go-lucky Christianity was not recognizable or comparable to her life or her problems.  And when she told me she wasn’t going to pray, there was nothing else I could say to relate.

The Offspring had a song in the 90’s that was real catchy.  I don’t expect too many church people to know it.  But there is a line in the song that is true.  It goes, “The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?”  For as much as they miss out on many aspects, I feel this is spot on.  And so does Jesus.  Luke 9:23 reads, “Anyone who would come after me must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me.”  The point being, you have to suffer to reach those who suffer.  You have to hurt to comfort those who hurt.  You have to go without some pleasures in your life if you want to share the gospel with those who have nothing.  You can not share light to a world in darkness from a soft cushion on your couch.  You cannot explain Jesus’ love to a broken world if your top priority is a television show.  You have to die a little to reach a world that is dying.

I don’t normally like to preach, but today is an exception.  Today, as I’m writing this, it is my birthday.  I am 25 years old.  I spent the day going to church with my girls, then eating lunch and a birthday cake that they made for me.  Then at 4 o’clock, I walked 3 miles back to my house before it got dark.  I miss my friends.  I miss Charles and Dean and Steven and so many others who I would have shared the day with in the States.  I miss my brothers, Josh and Sam, and their wives.  I miss my parents who always cook for me on my birthday.  I got to feeling a bit lonely after walking home.  I got a little down.  “The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?”  Then I remembered my girls.  I remembered that Lucy has a birthday on the 24th, then Alicia on the 31st, then Norma on the first day of the new year.  I remembered that they will share in the same birthday celebrations that I did.  I hoped that when I tell them “happy birthday”, they would feel as warm inside as I did today when Paola told me “Feliz cupleanos” or when Lizzy mouthed it to me in English during the church service.  I remembered that while it was a choice for me to be away from my friends and family for my birthday, they will have no other options.

But it made me feel good to remember that.  Because every time that I hurt a little more down here, I have a better opportunity to love these girls.  Every time I struggle a little bit down here, it means that I will be better able to empathize with a little girl who is crying because her life has been a disaster.  Every time that I give something up, I get a little bit closer.

For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for him.

–Philippians 1:29

Mourn with those who mourn.  –Romans 12:15

Regalos de Navidad

What a lovely week it has been down here in Honduras.  Lets walk through some of the highlights.

So almost exactly a year ago (December 7th), we had 3 little girls get kidnapped from the farm by their mother and aunt who were visiting.  Many of you knew about this and have prayed for these 3 little girls.  It was a really hard time for everybody at the farm.  I was in the states at the time after my first long term stay in Honduras, and it was really rough on me.  We prayed alot and did everything that we could through the police and government services and even went as far as to offer money to people for information on the girls.  But we had nothing.  For a year, we have had nothing.

Sunday afternoon we had a man show up to the gate at lunch time.  Occasionally people show up at the gate asking for money or work.  I thought nothing of it.  He asked to talk with Mrs. Pam or whoever was next in charge.  I figured he didnt want to talk to me, so I send Joe and Natali up to see what he really needed.  Natali came back and got me from lunch to tell me that I wanted to come hear what was going on.  This man was the father of Darling, the oldest of the 3 missing girls.  He told us that a few days beforehand, Darlings mother had dropped her off at his house.  He said that he cared for his daughter, but for certain reasons wanted to know if she could come back to live at the farm.  We were extatic.  I put him and his bike in the truck and we immediately went to where Darling was and picked her up.  She was happier than I imagined she would be.  She didnt remember me so well immediately (I like to blame it on the beard), but she ran and gave joe a big hug.

We were excited about Darling, but even better, Darling wanted us to go pick up her sisters.  Apparently, their mother skipped town and left all of the girls with different people.  Darling told us that she missed her little sisters and knew right where they were in Siguatepeque.  So, early monday morning, we picked up somebody from the childrens defense department and drove out to Siguat.  I was a little worried, because we were going across the country on the directions of a 10 year old girl.  I thought it was a long shot that Darling would remember and-or that the girls would be there.  Yet, Darling took us directly to where he sisters were.  Our childrens representative explained the situation to the woman at the house.  The lady was sad, but told us that the girls were in fact there.  It was so strange seeing the girls for the first time through the window.  They didnt know how many people had been praying for them.  They didnt know how many people had hurt since they had been gone.  They didnt know how much they had been missed and thought about in the last year. 

So to wrap up, after a year of looking and praying for the girls, God returned all of them to the farm in less than a 24 hour period.  We stuffed the girls full of wendys and took them on the winding mountain road back to the farm.  In retrospec, that was a bad idea.  There were a few bathroom stops and one vomitting incident.  But we made it.  The girls are safe and healthy.  They seem to be happy to be back.  The rest of the farm is beyond happy that they are back.  Thank you for those of you who prayed.

Well, I have to get back.  I have some baleadas to cook and some clothes to unpack. 

Building Kick......EXPLOSION!

Hello from Honduras.  Hope all is well.  Made it back down to the ministry on monday and its been a wonderful first week back in the country.  The school is going wonderful and I have many more people helping to educate these girls which is terrific.  I made it to town today and decided to make a blog while I have the internet, free time, and a good story.  But my water pill is doing its trick so this will not be a very long blog.

We have 4 new girls at the farm.  New being since i went home.  New girls are always fun.  Most of these girls havent ever had anybody give them attention like they deserve, so its always nice to be able to be here for that process.  Where they realize that somebody has a deep interest in their lives and wellbeing.  Along with that, we also get some attitudes.  One of the new girls got in trouble for something the other night.  It was small, but she was being disrespectful which turned things into a larger situation than it needed to be.  After several conversations and time out periods, tempers were a little bit higher than they needed to be.  I decided to send her to bed and we would work on it tomorrow.  So I explained in my broken spanish that she has to be respectful, that it frustrates the adults when she is rude, and that we care for her and do not want her to have these types of problems which is why we work with her and discipline her.  Yada, yada, right?  So I was just wrapping up and sending her to bed when she made strange sound.  I had heard that she had some anxiety attacks, so I quickly sat her on the couch and prepared to keep her calm and take some deep breaths.  Then out of no where....EXPLOSION!  Turns out when this girl gets nervous, she vomits.  I do not do vomit, and apparently neither does Natali.  Luckily, Amanda scooped in and took over while i pretended to do helpful things.  It was interesting to say the least.  Not at all how I expected that conversation to end. 

Ok, but i am back.  Pray for me.  Pray for my girls.  Pray for my staff.  You focus on Christ and we are going to do the same down here.