tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530797180506891472024-02-19T01:22:52.209-08:00Just Trying to Keep UpJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-4977419731009493192008-06-27T19:56:00.000-07:002008-06-27T20:11:16.789-07:00Will you be my "Papi?"I told myself I wouldn't allow it again. Allow this heart of mine to love like I loved before. I told myself, and even God, that I wouldn't do it. I refused it. And then God laughed.<br />I was privileged to work with the group from Grand Central two weeks ago. It was good for me to serve the people of Honduras with some of my closest friends. During this trip, we went to Hogar Bencaleth, the special needs orphanage. There, I was able to spend time with a little boy who I got I had spent time with two years ago. This sweet little boy, through his disabilities, reminded me that I was here to love people, not refuse love to people. Later that day, we traveled to Didasko, a children's home that I have come to adore. At Didasko, I played with the kids and then I saw, Isaac, the boy who I had spent time with last year. Being able to color with him, do puzzles with him, and just simply talk with him softened this hard heart.<br />I returned to Casa rejuvenated, ready to love my kids. Then we went and visited the boys for Marvin's and Antonio's birthday. It was so good to see all of our kids together again, playing with each other, enjoying each other's presence, just like it should be. I was able to hold Mario and talk to him about living with his family. He told me he liked it but sometimes his Dad hits him and Francisco with belts. When those words came out, I was reminded why I had hardened my heart. It hurts me when my children hurt. I was determined again that I would not let another child steal my heart.<br />And the way back, Cindy and Maryuri were sitting on my lap and Cindy turned to me and asked me, "JT, will you be my Papi?" This, of course caught me off gaurd, but I answered without hesistation, "Yes, Cindy, I will be your Papi." She smiled at me and then looked at her sister and asked, "Can you be Maryuri's Papi, too?" The answer was the same. So, once again, I find myself giving out bits of my hearts, vulnerable to whatever the world may through at it.<br />The other night, Brayan was sitting with me and telling me about his family. He told me that he never gets to see his Dad. I told him that he needed at Dad in his life, and without missing a beat said, "Well, your my Dad."<br />I had a hard heart before, but now, it is completely different story. A better story. It might not have its happy parts, but I know that there will be a "happy ever after."JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-58496407277262505742008-06-20T19:05:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:55:58.135-08:00A Favor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4-Engm7IP-nCfpJuNzNOEf0y2_JFnnhdX9S3CxwqLTszeAEFJNqeBYjICiWWlxitpdrM9qKou9VP3RnYlC8HIbRB5USFaTj0qcSh38yF1KlF_5velXAo8QA9HSpa5_HSTpj5DauMthg/s1600-h/June+18+%2813%29-fb.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4-Engm7IP-nCfpJuNzNOEf0y2_JFnnhdX9S3CxwqLTszeAEFJNqeBYjICiWWlxitpdrM9qKou9VP3RnYlC8HIbRB5USFaTj0qcSh38yF1KlF_5velXAo8QA9HSpa5_HSTpj5DauMthg/s320/June+18+%2813%29-fb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214154816093606354" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And life seems to keep on going, with or without you.<br />The day that the boys left, Monica's, Fernando's, and Katty's sister came to live with us at Casa. Doris only spoke two words at Casitas Kennedy, we were told, so we knew that having her here would be an adventure. Let me just tell you, once we got Doris talking, there was no stopping her-whether she is mimicking what we say, speaking in Spanish, or just making weird noise, Doris is constantly talking. I believe that Doris is also autistic. It is obvious that she is not fully developed mentally. All this being said, she is teaching us patience. Sometimes I just want her to be a normal child, but from time to time I am so grateful for how special she is (and I mean that with my whole heart.) I used to think that behind each child who is mentally undeveloped, there is just a normal child waiting to come out. Now I don't believe that. Doris has shown me that I don't have to search within her to find a little girl who needs loved. She is right there, waiting for someone to love her for who she is.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbjy6A-EFLI7OZUP2yZg8UJhrK2yaJ108qg_5Vry-JIwoDn-TKdHeP7MHea_JgAlPUfvhFqJOKdw1-zgf6JuHOw6AsAAVaxov0n85egPH0TxIBlcGzwiZdrgjE4tHcKV5fIu1yMvPKHE/s1600-h/June+6+%281%29-fb.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbjy6A-EFLI7OZUP2yZg8UJhrK2yaJ108qg_5Vry-JIwoDn-TKdHeP7MHea_JgAlPUfvhFqJOKdw1-zgf6JuHOw6AsAAVaxov0n85egPH0TxIBlcGzwiZdrgjE4tHcKV5fIu1yMvPKHE/s320/June+6+%281%29-fb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214154389226398114" border="0" /></a><br />The next Thursday, Karen walks into the office where I was writing some e-mails and says that we were getting a new boy that night. Mind you, this was around seven in the evening. Within an hour, the guard walks in from the rain, with a little seven-year-old boy in his arms. With his light skin and curly hair, I couldn't help but think of my boy Rudy. Johny was embraced by so many new people, and I think the whole five people trying to love you at once made him a little overwhelmed.<br />Johny was found on the streets by the head judge in Tegucigalpa and needed a place to put him. She knew that Tim Hines, one of the head honchos around here, had a children's and asked if he could do her a favor. Yep, taking Johny in was that favor. And what a favor he has been. When I heard that he was taken off of the streets, I thought he was going to continue to have the street-mentality that I have seen over and over here at Casa. But, through the grace of God, Johny has fit right into this place. Of course, there have been growing pains, but over all there haven't been that many problems.<br />It has been hard for me to give my heart to these kids. My fear is that once I start loving them, they are just going to leave. I know this fear is kind of ridiculous, but once you are hurt once, it is hard to forget it. I know that God will help me give of my heart to the kids, but I could use some prayers.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-15114508585732627752008-06-06T20:26:00.001-07:002008-06-06T20:26:52.012-07:00Fatherhood, Part III<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When I took on the role as part time father to these kids, I had no idea how much I would invest in their lives. Their pains, pain me. Their joys fill my heart with joy. My heart no longer beats in my chest, but inside of them. Being a father is risky business. Especially to these kids.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Almost as soon as I wrote the blog about how special the bond I had with Mario is, God stripped him out of my hands. Last Friday, during visitation, Maria and her husband, the five boys’ parents, came and took the boys home with them. I was not at visitation because it was my day to help clean the house, so I thought I was never going to see those boys again. I went into hysterics. I have never felt pain like that before—not only the quantity of pain, but the type. The type of pain that finds you heart and beats, stabs, kicks it. Pain the doubles you over. Those five boys have more of my heart than any other person in this world—any other group of people. Mario was my son—there were no questions about that. Other people here were commenting on how much better he was now that I was with him. He brought more happiness to me than any thing else. The day before, during nap time, I had him on my side and Antonio sleeping on my chest and I thanked God for those kids. I thanked Him that I finally found the happiness I was searching for. I thanked him that I was able to spend six weeks with these kids. And then He just took it from me. I still don’t understand it. Does God want me to not find happiness? Does he want them to starve? I have never been so angry at God than on Friday. I filled heaven with my screams and my cries of pain. I laid in Mario’s bed and held his pillow and wept. I wanted to scratch his back while he fell asleep again. I wanted to see Francisco’s dimples appear on his face with one of his classic smiles. I wanted to have Antonio running straight towards me with his arms open wide. I wanted to try figure out how Marvin had so much energy for such a small body. I wanted to watch Yovani impress me with maturity. I wanted them back. I want this so badly, I hurt. I am broken.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">On Sunday, we had to take all of the boys their stuff, which meant a trip to their house. I got to see the boys again. I saw the happiness that Maria had because she was with her boys after two years. So many emotions filled me. I was happy that Maria had my boys, her boys, but I was still in mourning because they weren’t with me. The boys were so proud to show me the two beds that they share, the outhouse, the pila where they bathe and clean their clothes and swim, and the kitchen without any food in it. They were so proud of it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I said my goodbyes to the boys one at a time, reminding each of them that I loved them and that I would never stop loving them. I took their parents aside and thanked them for the boys. I told them that I loved their boys and that because they were their parents, I loved them too. And finally it came time for me to say goodbye to Mario. I told him that he was my son forever and that I would never stop loving him. I held him for too short a time and didn’t say enough. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">As I sit here with tears streaming down my face, I know that my life has been forever changed because of those five precious boys. God spoke to me so many times directly through them. I learned that I am such a flawed person but if you invest your love and life into a child, he will love you for who you are. This hole in my heart won’t heal, and I would be ashamed of myself if it did. I don’t ever want to get to the place where I don’t get a little choked up when someone says, “Do you remember when Francisco/ Marvin/ Antonio/ Yovani/ Mario did this.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">There is a good chance that after this summer, I won’t see the boys again. But I will always be a part of them and they apart of me. I mean honestly, Mario holds heart and a man cannot live without that. </p>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-5949144067256673492008-05-28T22:14:00.000-07:002008-05-28T22:20:02.359-07:00Back with My KidsYep. I'm here again. Honduras is a very expensive addiction.<br />So I will save you all of the details of the troubles getting down here, but lets just say that God wants me to arrive in Honduras on May 26. It has happened two years in a row. I have never planned on arriving on the 26th but it always happens.<br />That being said, I am here. With my kids. I am where I need to be right now. It is very apparent, especially with my son Mario. He has been having troubles recently, but since I have been here, he has been pretty good. I am not saying I have any control over him, but I understand him. He understands me. I like the bond I have with him. It is a bond I have missed. He is mine--no question.<br />So, I am here. I promise to write more often now that I am here. Please be praying for the kids, Casa, the workers, the thousands of interns, and my future with this place. I could use all of the prayers you could spare.<br /><br />JTJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-63102639012405622522008-05-02T23:04:00.000-07:002008-05-02T23:26:11.937-07:00Silent<h2 style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span> </h2><h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">I just finished classes at OVU this week for the semester. Let me tell you, college is not what is crack-up to be. Anyways, there was one class that I really did enjoy and that was my literautre class. I enjoyed this class not only because of the material but because of the papers we got to write. I know I am a dork, but I do truly love writing papers. This one particular essay stuck with me. A little bit of background, this writing was based off of the short story "Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Gas Chamber." We had to write as one who was at the concentration camp at <st1:place st="on">Auschwitz</st1:place>. </span><o:p></o:p></h2> <h2 style="line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-weight: normal;">Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha‑olam, she‑hehiyanu v'kiy'manu v'higi'anu la‑z'man ha‑ze.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-weight: normal;"> The<i style=""> </i><span class="mw-headline"><span style="">Shehecheyanu.</span> </span>I have said this prayer over and over. I do not stumble over the Hebrew words like before. Now I stumble over the meaning of these words. "Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season." How can I recite this poetry when it is not true? Blessed are you who has kept us alive. Is God still blessed when his people are dying by the thousands?<o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2 style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-weight: normal;">My wife Lia insisted that I go into hiding with her. “<st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Judah</st1:place></st1:country-region>, do not be foolish,” she would scream at me. She didn’t scream in anger. She never screamed in anger. She loved me. I loved her. We will never see each other again. I pray that the unfeeling God still has pity over such a beautiful creature like her. It is clear He has forgotten me. Me. A servant of his. A Rabbi. One who has committed his life for the work of Jehovah. Committed his life even to death. <o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2 style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-weight: normal;">Death. It is all around me. Women from my synagogue taken away from their husbands. Death. Children, abandoned by their parents, forced to starve to death. Bodies heaped on top of bodies and carted off to the crematorium. Death. Men forced to do hard labor with only the promise of the gas chambers. Thousands taken to this place of death. <st1:place st="on">Auschwitz</st1:place>. My faith is growing weaker with every prayer I read from my prayer book. My thoughts are no longer of the joy of the Lord, but the wrath of the Lord. Wrath that is uncontrollable. Wrath that devours the innocent. An unjust wrath.<o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2 style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-weight: normal;">But justice has died. She dies everyday in the gas chambers. She is not alone when she dies; hundreds of men, women, and children are there dying with her. And I stand outside of the chambers watching justice die again, saying my prayer to the holy and just God. <o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></span> </h2><h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">Some of you might be thinking that I am a little dramatic, but just think about it. Thousands of people were killed in the Holocaust. People who thought they were God’s chosen—dying by the millions.<o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">This week at Prime Time, a college student gave a talk on God’s silence. It stuck with me, but maybe not in the way he wanted it to. I think he was trying to say that people should keep the faith when God is silent. I am stumbling right now. I want God to just open His mouth and hold out His arms to me, but He won’t. I don’t know why. I wish I did. I am sure some would say that he is trying to teach me something. Others might say that he needs me to be broken before He can doing anything with me. But I just want to know that He is still there. I miss my Dad. I feel like I am trying with all of my might to grab a hold of his hand, his pinky, his toe, something. I want to feel like He won’t let anything hurt me anymore. But I feel like I am fair game to Satan’s attacks.<o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">Right now it seems like there is no end to the hurt. No end to the disappointment. Many good things are being ripped right out of my hands. When I find happiness in something, a shadow of disappointment seems to be right there. Sometimes just the shadow comes and I never get to find happiness. Doubt has crept in with my faith and it scares me. I want to feel like God cares. I want to so badly, but it is difficult. <o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">My Christian mask that I have glued to my face has cracked. I cannot pretend like the joy of the Lord is my strength when I am falling down. It is hard to sing of hope when I seem to have lost it. Though my mask itches, I still, for some reason, seem to always have it on. <o:p></o:p></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;">I am weary. <o:p></o:p></span></h2>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-27239568135014751042008-01-27T20:56:00.000-08:002008-01-27T21:31:15.820-08:00A StatisticI would love to tell you more about my recent trip to Casa, but I am way too emotional to talk about that right now. Thanks Ashley. Anywho, here is another post.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"One death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic."</span><br /><br />This quote is credited to Joseph Stalin, and I used to think that this wasn't true. Obviously people care more about a mass genocide compared to the death of a single person, right?<br /><br />Recently, the answer would be "no." As most, if not all of you know, the actor Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment on Tuesday. I found out by a text. Others found out from their friends. Some found out from the news. However people found out, the point is that those who do not live under a rock found out about this happening by the end of that day. Multiple television stations were scrambling for new information, while others bid farewell to this actor through touching thirty second long slide shows. People who did not even know this man cried for him. Cried for his family. People who had never met the man or were even that great of fans, left flowers by his doors step in New York. Celebrities partook in a race to see who could produce a statement expressing their condolences to the Ledger family first. People actually cared that Heath Ledger had died.<br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DONFLA%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DONFLA%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DONFLA%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-2.jpg" alt="" />Do you know any of the names of those who were killed in Kenya today? How about Darfur? Why has no one texted me today to let me know that a little boy is now an orphan because his parents were killed? I didn't even hear the words "genocide" or "AIDS" or "ethnic cleansing" today. Why not? Where are the flowers on the doorsteps of the millions who have been killed over the past couple of weeks. Where was the touching slide show? The celebrity statements? The prayers? Where?<br />I couldn't tell you the name of one person who was murdered today in Africa or Asia. Not one. And, I even researched it. The reason we spend so little brain time on this subject is because it makes us uncomfortable-- it makes us feel guilty for living so comfortably. I also believe we spend so little time remembering those who died for ridiculous reasons like practicing the wrong religion or being part of the wrong tribe is because our media speaks so little about it. The media has its agenda that it wants to cover in the day, and the dying of thousands is not on it.<br />I just find it ironic that many hours are spent in mourning a person we have only seen in movies, and just few minutes is devoted to the struggles that people face everyday. I guess the death of a million really is just a statistic.<br /><br />JTJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-36897385747222086902008-01-05T18:52:00.000-08:002008-01-05T19:03:19.828-08:00Five DollarsQuick blog, I hope to write longer ones at a later time.<br /><br />Jen and I were going from the bank to a restaurant where we had dropped the kids (with some adults, don't worry) off before. We were stopped at a red light when one of the many street children wanted to clean our windshield and realized that he knew Jen and came to our window. Jen was talking to him, and I was the blessed to give him 100 limps. This dirty child started screaming at the top of his lungs rejoicing and was dancing on the streets. Two of his friends noticed he was excited and knew that they wanted parted of the excitement. I just happened to have two more 100 limp bills that I was blessed to give to them. I am not writing this to say how wonderful I am that I can give to these kids. It is more to say how sad 100 limps-- five dollars-- makes a child so happy. To be honest, if someone gave me five dollars as a gift, I would smile and think that they were cheap. These kids though were dancing in the streets. Five dollars, that's it.<br /><br />This place will open up your eyes--over and over again.<br /><br />JTJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-25353796376506717052008-01-01T19:39:00.000-08:002008-01-01T20:05:44.980-08:00Worship with the GirlsTonight I had the chance to put the girls to bed tonight. Having done nap time with the girls, I was not sure how bed would go, but it was the best thing I have done in awhile. At first the girls would not sleep, in fact they would not stop moving long enough to sleep. So I laid down with Maryuri and asked the girls if they wanted me to sing for them. Well the for them turned into the with them. I started to sing and Maryuri hummed random notes, Cindy and Daniela would repeat what I would sing, and the other girls would just sing what ever they wanted. I loved it. A lot. It was beautiful. But I knew the girls would not sleep if they were all singing, so I told the girls that I would continue singing but I wanted them to sleep. Cindy told me that they needed to pray. Daniela prayed, then Cindy prayed, and then Katty. They prayed for about every person they could think of and for Casa de Esperanza. Katty prayed for me and then thanked God for, "all of the beds." It was funny. I just enjoyed worshiping God with these girls. I know that they do not fully understand God and why we worship Him. But you know what, neither do I.<br />I learn a lot from these kids. Especially about God, the Father.<br /><br />JTJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-21960798020928238612007-12-28T19:03:00.000-08:002007-12-28T19:09:15.517-08:00I'm HomeAnd by home, I mean my summer home. That is right boys and girls I am back in Honduras for two weeks. When I walked in the door yesterday evening, I went to give Karen a hug but before I could Fitto saw me, yelled "Tio JT," calling the rest of the fifteen kids to attack me. I do not think I have ever felt so loved before--rough love too. It is good to be back with my children- they have grown so much. I could go through all of the changes but I am tired and I will show you the changes instead, later on.<br /><br />I suppose I should explain why I have not posted in such a long time. The reason--college. I swear I am writing essays all of the time, so by the time I am done with all of my essays, I do not exactly feel like writing anymore. But my New Year's resolution is to write at least once a month on here, not that expect anyone to read it.<br /><br />Alright, goodnight friends.<br /><br />JTJThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-39701962259528123722007-08-14T20:39:00.000-07:002007-08-14T21:15:43.256-07:00My FamilyI love the Church. I'm just going to throw it out there because so many things that I have been reading recently by people that I know and people that are famous for their writings seem to put a very negative spin on the church. I know that the church ( and I mean this as the whole body of believers, not just the ones who agree with me and what I believe) has its downfalls. But, I get tired of reading things like- " the church doesn't care anymore" " no one seems to be real in the church anymore" " the church is dead" and yada yada yada. I don't feel like these comments are edifying anyone. Maybe the purpose of these writings that I have been reading is re-invigorate the church and encourage the church to get back in the world. If I wanted to excite and encourage a body of believers, I don't think constantly insulting them and "guilting" them is the best way of accomplishing this goal. In fact, I think it could actually do the contrary.<br />I don't believe that true worship is done only in the right settings, at the right time, with the right people, and in the right pew. In fact, I think a worship service is only a small fraction of what worship really is. However, I do think that is worship.<br />Many times, I think these anti-church remarks sounds extremely self-righteous. <br />I think I get so frustrated with these kinds of remarks because they are hurtful remarks about my family. No, I don't mean my Mom and Dad, I mean my brothers and sisters in Christ. As some of you know, I am a very protective brother, and that means with all of my family. I don't like it when people say critical things about my family.<br />I do get irritated with church people, do not get my wrong. There are many times when I want to rip my hair out because some people just don't get that the <span style="font-weight: bold;">whole</span> world is in need of a Savior, the Savior, and if we aren't going to tell them about Him, who will. There are times when I cannot believe that people are fighting over the hour spent in a church building, when thousands upon millions of people go hungry every night. I don't understand why we expect the government to take care of the widowed and orphaned, when we, the hands and feet of Christ are called to do this. However, I do not believe that the way to correct this is by demeaning the Church at every opportunity. We are a family, the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, and we are to edify one another.<br /><span id="en-NIV-28285" class="sup">Romans 14:19</span>Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual.<br /><br />I could have just rambled, and this probably made no sense what so ever, but this has just been bugging me recently, so I thought I should blog it.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-88709260224457888792007-08-07T16:34:00.001-07:002007-08-07T16:35:47.021-07:00I'm backAs I am sure most of you have already figured out, I am back in the States. I came home a few days earlier than expected for multiple reasons. I have a lot to say about the summer and life in general, but I need to sort through them in my head before I post my thoughts for the whole world to see.<br /><br />I miss my kids.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-80261293389672255242007-07-30T12:42:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:55:59.383-08:00The Final FourLast but certainly not least, here are the last four children that I hope you take some time out of your day to cover in prayer.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPigb4QzSaKI8_drSSkRUhYOCnVvabea5PRUzH-ri_9aLEU1zqv_QH0G0ADtTBTumSSk-m7kmhF1ajhAsPLOwZvULcoeBu2RPBUw7j0cWGPFbg9hJIyXxIM_5BewoF9NuM2JiwHPSoEe0/s1600-h/Fitto.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPigb4QzSaKI8_drSSkRUhYOCnVvabea5PRUzH-ri_9aLEU1zqv_QH0G0ADtTBTumSSk-m7kmhF1ajhAsPLOwZvULcoeBu2RPBUw7j0cWGPFbg9hJIyXxIM_5BewoF9NuM2JiwHPSoEe0/s320/Fitto.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093078447887532946" border="0" /></a>Fitto is the brother of Pamela and Daniela. Like many of our children, Fitto "worked" on the streets, which meant he made money for his family by begging. At the first orphanage that he and his sisters were at, Fitto was sexually abused by some of the other boys. Fitto has grown so much since he has been here. He used to throw fits whenever he got in trouble and would not talk to anyone for hours. Now Fitto simply takes his punishment like any other child. Pray that Fitto will continue to heal from the trouble that his family has caused in his life and the trauma he faced at the other orphanage.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdH_vnCrM-1hR7QML815GMAgqZFHz-I7Cpl6kaGPZbRskoYJCDHnpFYVgAkS5W68jn7OOnhfr-MTdjfO6kjAoOLLzeu_MsK1VBSt3lORXd0hZqRDjJf1hIFWhyYCdP4QIMstvc2zljAQ0/s1600-h/CIMG1163.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdH_vnCrM-1hR7QML815GMAgqZFHz-I7Cpl6kaGPZbRskoYJCDHnpFYVgAkS5W68jn7OOnhfr-MTdjfO6kjAoOLLzeu_MsK1VBSt3lORXd0hZqRDjJf1hIFWhyYCdP4QIMstvc2zljAQ0/s320/CIMG1163.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093079865226740642" border="0" /></a>Marvin is part of the first five brothers that came to live at Casa. Like his older brother Yovani, Marvin has been having problems with the new boys in the house. Slowly, however, he is beginning to think of the other boys as friends. Marvin is a sweet child who would be friends with just about any Gringo. Though he can be very ornery, Marvin's smile keeps you smiling. Pray that he can adjust to the new things in his life.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZY98h3Lcvs91Cm-VjK9cOxHKpHTiWHM7agXrCkQQFnHndyuEVaIo0OZprlMP48tXLw9SGaZZDQCtY6TSNd6LA6YicAh_R3nx9Ure1Pl28o2VsjXc7oXZd58qdaTKPi4v7JULvJOAmLg8/s1600-h/Pinata+Brayan.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZY98h3Lcvs91Cm-VjK9cOxHKpHTiWHM7agXrCkQQFnHndyuEVaIo0OZprlMP48tXLw9SGaZZDQCtY6TSNd6LA6YicAh_R3nx9Ure1Pl28o2VsjXc7oXZd58qdaTKPi4v7JULvJOAmLg8/s320/Pinata+Brayan.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093080870249087922" border="0" /></a>Brayan and his brother Rudy came to live at Casa at the end of May. The story of how he came here is amazing, but I would never give the story justice. You need to go to <a href="http://www.calledandcompelled.blogspot.com/">Jen's blog</a> where she recounts the whole story. Brayan was taken from his home because he was found too many times begging on the streets. He is a funny child, whose new favorite phrase is "O my goodness." Just imagine that with an accent, and it is pretty fun. Brayan's temper, on some days, can be uncontrollable, so I ask that you pray that God will take Brayan's anger out of him.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIMrhkSSdMX8nNnyVTgf38xBj1oGqf0yAxT4fXWdtKXXv0fdl83eEgPMcnnQ5Sslvi3SiGQkE5rBxbopYc-QuxVRhmpaiCfc6JrN-Be5v_Srfoe8AJZujsoAJhXBeUfLzRfjAjSlmae8/s1600-h/CIMG1225.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIMrhkSSdMX8nNnyVTgf38xBj1oGqf0yAxT4fXWdtKXXv0fdl83eEgPMcnnQ5Sslvi3SiGQkE5rBxbopYc-QuxVRhmpaiCfc6JrN-Be5v_Srfoe8AJZujsoAJhXBeUfLzRfjAjSlmae8/s320/CIMG1225.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093082455092020162" border="0" /></a>And finally, my son. Mario has been here since last June when he came with four brothers. He is a punk, to simply put it. But he is my punk. There have been so many nights that I have laid down with him and prayed "Lord, let me take him home with me." For whatever reason, this little guy has found his place in my heart and isn't budging. Recently, however, he has been throwing temper tantrum's whenever he doesn't get his way or is punished for whatever reason. This picture was actually take during one of his tantrums, which is funny because you would never guess that. Pray, please, that Mario will quit having tantrums and begins to act like the sweet boy that I know he is.<br /><br />At a devo I went to a couple weeks ago, we sang "Lord be there for Me." We were asked however to sing it on behalf of the children of Honduras and sing it as "Lord be there for Them." That is my prayer for the kids, that the Lord will always be there for them.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-62137605869780233822007-07-28T18:05:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:55:59.810-08:00Keep Praying<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOb9qzVuJPNeYcbnwjF392f3c-sWzWJ7zmJj4OC5JMXiI5h1_LfY4oDq47d-GD69gF0dpPTgWMLw6RneH9Ni9lEQ-DKPnACP7b_v6UHvvIKMJyuykNKdclebbSIpPkdq2vs45Vhbvuz0/s1600-h/CIMG1192.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOb9qzVuJPNeYcbnwjF392f3c-sWzWJ7zmJj4OC5JMXiI5h1_LfY4oDq47d-GD69gF0dpPTgWMLw6RneH9Ni9lEQ-DKPnACP7b_v6UHvvIKMJyuykNKdclebbSIpPkdq2vs45Vhbvuz0/s320/CIMG1192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092418994313937730" border="0" /></a>This is Francisco. He is one of the sweetest children you will ever meet. He is the fifth out of six boys. His mother brought him and four of his brothers to Casitas one by one when she realized she couldn't afford to feed them anymore. She kept his oldest brother because he could "work." This little guy can bring a smile to anyone's face.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzB2qvPyIBEC5pbOy0Y4kZ0iloLxfzYfeY84UcZGuZPKBDFSFVnCYOuHOkTFzylf8CgVu1CxchqGJyEkzr2u5h28IVfmQfYhW_0BHagyX94WF5owtBqYuLd-SMuNUwVtRkcZY_rOQYTQE/s1600-h/CIMG1150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzB2qvPyIBEC5pbOy0Y4kZ0iloLxfzYfeY84UcZGuZPKBDFSFVnCYOuHOkTFzylf8CgVu1CxchqGJyEkzr2u5h28IVfmQfYhW_0BHagyX94WF5owtBqYuLd-SMuNUwVtRkcZY_rOQYTQE/s320/CIMG1150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092420738070659938" border="0" /></a>Daniela came here with her brother and sister at the end of May. Daniela's past has been marred with pain and suffering. As you have read before, Daniela's sister, Pamela, was sexually abused by their older brother. From what Pamela has told us and from what we have seen, we believe the Daniela was sexually abused, also. Her past has come to haunt her many times, causing her to through fits and have flash backs of the incident. As you can see, her smile lights up her whole face that can be found so often with despair written all over it. Daniela needs prayers to get her through the day without any reminder of her awful past.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnSB3JCMmstEnk7NYYfh2SdCG2XE4IwRkkBSRd59Y_lZrnW7biYZiyL83SY0QN2em8-mtHZoNwflOLjXBraXdUBPq-Kz6liUxfLeN2-SCN7Rs2QYyP5pD1hLoMc774WjLEPRONkybRMA/s1600-h/CIMG1180.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnSB3JCMmstEnk7NYYfh2SdCG2XE4IwRkkBSRd59Y_lZrnW7biYZiyL83SY0QN2em8-mtHZoNwflOLjXBraXdUBPq-Kz6liUxfLeN2-SCN7Rs2QYyP5pD1hLoMc774WjLEPRONkybRMA/s320/CIMG1180.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092425153297040242" border="0" /></a>Yovani is the "older" brother out of first five brothers who came to live at Casa de Esperanza. When his mother brought him to Casitas Kennedy, she told him to take care of his little brothers. He took that request to heart, and sometimes he become too over protective. Until the newest kids came in May, Yovani was the top dog. Now he is younger than some of the new boys and gets into fight with them, because he says that they pick on his little brothers. Things are getting better between him and the other boys, but pray that he can realize that all of the kids here are part of his family.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHnOSah_D69GDbTPe8aNll7dPrB3x6z3mKpzQ876UtQdmyjBYlNs-rrPMZVI5namipPSKIQlVbwvKub3WEiBXqHuMgXH6EKCDyfndNhW4hBi27ncgkkEpoa5bZGvavJHe-ZVMAc5YmEY/s1600-h/Antonio+with+Bowl+%281%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHnOSah_D69GDbTPe8aNll7dPrB3x6z3mKpzQ876UtQdmyjBYlNs-rrPMZVI5namipPSKIQlVbwvKub3WEiBXqHuMgXH6EKCDyfndNhW4hBi27ncgkkEpoa5bZGvavJHe-ZVMAc5YmEY/s320/Antonio+with+Bowl+%281%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092433017382159234" border="0" /></a>Here's the baby, Antonio. Antonio cries- a lot. It is kind of like his job. I give him a hard time because I love him, and he is finally starting to like me too. He is the youngest of the original five brothers, but still has a hard time with new people- especially white people. I have been here for two months, and he still doesn't always feel comfortable with me. Pray that this child can grow and develop properly like any other child.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-62257678377306158702007-07-25T19:32:00.000-07:002007-07-25T19:37:39.588-07:00ParasitesThat's right my friends I have a parasite. Don't exactly know what that means except that some days I feel horrible. Therefore, please don't blame me for the lack of blogging, blame the worms. So, the whole twenty blogs before I leave is out the window. However, I will make an effort to blog as much as I feel up to. <br /><br />I have a lot to say, and so little time to say it. I guess this whole blogging thing doesn't have to end once I return home.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-31812688753410859832007-07-22T18:57:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:56:00.734-08:00Four More Sweet ChildrenHere are four more faces of children who I am begging you to pray for.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWRxpbDSWtGB46UXXX_dSuWVJ282jQKKO51RoQCNVe7zBjK1JlVwOSvNO49Sobj2ydX0g2rDy7l-tCDBFSv0WWvOR1rfRd_ngvIvYHxQRCVPZ35qqXC3_butFKPFU8eCGVm0VRMz_Z6k/s1600-h/Rudy+1-DskTp.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWRxpbDSWtGB46UXXX_dSuWVJ282jQKKO51RoQCNVe7zBjK1JlVwOSvNO49Sobj2ydX0g2rDy7l-tCDBFSv0WWvOR1rfRd_ngvIvYHxQRCVPZ35qqXC3_butFKPFU8eCGVm0VRMz_Z6k/s320/Rudy+1-DskTp.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090208391826555650" border="0" /></a> Underneath his tough exterior, Rudy is a sweet little boy. More and more, everyday, that rough exterior cracks. I proudest of Rudy when he is with his little brothers or with Antonio. The other day Antonio fell off his tricycle, and Rudy picked him up to make sure he was okay. Rudy was taken from his family because he was found too many times begging. His mother is not a cruel person by any means, but she is desperate.Please pray that this little guy's rough exterior will crack completely.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iyYuOH4OFRBuTNfyBAJo0_-DL0MjDcMTP5owKurqT3N1atgD_UTpov0zgCFpGR92M-M4_3hBPNTVuvJs_XI_P_izW-p62EzRo2-jok8N4Mi8j9nJULFAKQCNcbayj3lB9dHI2OELM3Q/s1600-h/CIMG1136.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iyYuOH4OFRBuTNfyBAJo0_-DL0MjDcMTP5owKurqT3N1atgD_UTpov0zgCFpGR92M-M4_3hBPNTVuvJs_XI_P_izW-p62EzRo2-jok8N4Mi8j9nJULFAKQCNcbayj3lB9dHI2OELM3Q/s320/CIMG1136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090211406893597458" border="0" /></a>I call her crazy hair, as you can see why. But I also call her Monica. Monica is Katty and Fernando's older sister. As you read before, Monica's parents are crazy, and unfortunately, Monica also is mentally handicapped. Though she is slower at time, she is a sweet girl. She is all about being up in your face and loving on you. Please pray that she can develop properly and is not held back by her disabilities.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZjHZ7zXGnQC49w4kmqPCE0hFbANtiSyed1cmaLL1EaDz0VRm9VTBV0bd_WQ3m_-jyA2pMkTmGLT87br-t7IqplLB-b5h5ERQQ_7OjE13dLlUJahtl0BIPxj1qe_ao3wdN1AhPBMHOhI/s1600-h/Luby+June.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZjHZ7zXGnQC49w4kmqPCE0hFbANtiSyed1cmaLL1EaDz0VRm9VTBV0bd_WQ3m_-jyA2pMkTmGLT87br-t7IqplLB-b5h5ERQQ_7OjE13dLlUJahtl0BIPxj1qe_ao3wdN1AhPBMHOhI/s320/Luby+June.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090218725517869858" border="0" /></a>This is Luby, our natural born leader who simply needs to focus his leadership ability in a good way. Luby was a street kid by name, but he did have a home. However this home was a not a place a refuge. Luby has scars on his body from where he was beat and burned, a long with many other things. His tough past follows him wherever he goes, but with the Lord's help, Luby can turn his horrible past and use it for good someday. Each day we see glimpse of his little heart breaking through the rough facade he is so used to putting up. Pray that this kid can push down this facade.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfZd3NxFy87RKVnK-0K4j-k4RkUiGPZMNvskSGMWZtLepzZPU_8_1of9LnCofTOawJzIs7QcPsUgaOmE9aWtRoaC8A3ILPCW53wx91CLVL6HjSSGKg3U-IhJn9cakagtzseZmG3HxQtg/s1600-h/CIMG1145.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfZd3NxFy87RKVnK-0K4j-k4RkUiGPZMNvskSGMWZtLepzZPU_8_1of9LnCofTOawJzIs7QcPsUgaOmE9aWtRoaC8A3ILPCW53wx91CLVL6HjSSGKg3U-IhJn9cakagtzseZmG3HxQtg/s320/CIMG1145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090221895203734322" border="0" /></a>Today is this little girl's 5th birthday. Though she just turned five today, Cindy's life has been filled with so many adult things. Cindy was physically and sexually abused by her father before she was taken to Casitas Kennedy. She, on occasion, can be a handful, especially during nap time. She can be down right defiant. But she can also be the sweetest little girl that you will ever meet. Pray that Cindy will finally live beyond her past, and will simply grow-up as a little girl without care.<br /><br />Pray.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-26858312338468664802007-07-21T10:48:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:56:01.147-08:00Little Rays of SunlightThe title kind of makes this sound like a Hallmark commercial, and it is kind of sappy in a sense. Yesterday, I had a rough day with one of the kids and I really took it to heart. The whole situation affected my mood and attitude, but three things brightened up my day.<br />The first was this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AYsGkMGy7P8g0b9o9Rpj6HSAnCCbTyOFdW97vckjaBR4Zz5m2RYDXm1hiX-EGFQWul4aBCp9tiIkXeidSvrhcyp_EGLPQgJZPaul8FmdZcrEjCnJ_pkFkWqGuADQmRz9618H6I1CyHI/s1600-h/cimg1207.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AYsGkMGy7P8g0b9o9Rpj6HSAnCCbTyOFdW97vckjaBR4Zz5m2RYDXm1hiX-EGFQWul4aBCp9tiIkXeidSvrhcyp_EGLPQgJZPaul8FmdZcrEjCnJ_pkFkWqGuADQmRz9618H6I1CyHI/s320/cimg1207.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089710570757210850" border="0" /></a>Maryuri needed help with her shoe, so Francisco, who is only three, got down and started putting it on her. He never fully succeeded, but it still brought a smile to my face.<br /><br />Next was this<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXDYpVdXvYVN0cFCHTtrdM2btGXzfh-oYGFpUeqKLwPdZ5Pl4tx8lZOsUcoEdBdg2OayI-E6esEHZYUcNOxoZQvadcWRdYIyc9OzVwwZSXZqRmZQfNVTsGoSORF0NG1B9NRDjx7TS5Qc/s1600-h/CIMG1208.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXDYpVdXvYVN0cFCHTtrdM2btGXzfh-oYGFpUeqKLwPdZ5Pl4tx8lZOsUcoEdBdg2OayI-E6esEHZYUcNOxoZQvadcWRdYIyc9OzVwwZSXZqRmZQfNVTsGoSORF0NG1B9NRDjx7TS5Qc/s320/CIMG1208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089711923671909106" border="0" /></a>How lucky am I that I can simply look of my back porch and see this. I have been here for two months and I have never really taken a good look at God's handy work right behind the house.<br /><br />And finally, last night we met a big TORCH group at the Jesus statue for a devo. Worship in English becomes something very refreshing and special when most of the worship services you attend are in Spanish.<br /><br />Yesterday taught me to find happiness in the little things in life. Thank you God for those little things.<br />I will post four more pictures of the kids later on.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-24313500555533643652007-07-18T09:44:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:56:02.141-08:00My ChildrenThese next couple posts, I am going to ask you to pray over four children at a time. Each post I will put their pictures on here, so that you can see their face when you lift them up to our Father. All of these children have had rough pasts which still continue to haunt them. I hope that you would just add them to your daily prayers, because the best healing they are going to get from their pasts is going to come from God.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuLQD5OZVBZyppLytIhqp7Zjcd2ymjqf1Ge78qVpiIW2KHYSqAqGUis9SvG6IipgcKZVtaB6QVNy6E4dFRJvp99oIeShwQ4DKQ8sIvj3_RCEOYD9KlJ0gf-lQ9bTjZOja2HiaihS5gJI/s1600-h/Fernando+8.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuLQD5OZVBZyppLytIhqp7Zjcd2ymjqf1Ge78qVpiIW2KHYSqAqGUis9SvG6IipgcKZVtaB6QVNy6E4dFRJvp99oIeShwQ4DKQ8sIvj3_RCEOYD9KlJ0gf-lQ9bTjZOja2HiaihS5gJI/s320/Fernando+8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088579610818129874" border="0" /></a>This is Fernando. He is five years old, and came here with his two sisters, Monica and Katty. They were taken out of their homes because their parents were not mentally capable to raise children. He is a sweet child who is not afraid to love on you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKwvVMPL9yPLGXHmA3bcrhyphenhyphenA_Zu88Ou66xwnze_8m5Pz68GDsbvgW3fgk_mFRxIjK9m5K7TNmRfolhJbhmyyGUA_Pcbu9xrGvevQSC1mG74Xr-T5lh7P3gGCHuiz95azCyzOHUwSiB4I/s1600-h/Maryuri+Smile.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKwvVMPL9yPLGXHmA3bcrhyphenhyphenA_Zu88Ou66xwnze_8m5Pz68GDsbvgW3fgk_mFRxIjK9m5K7TNmRfolhJbhmyyGUA_Pcbu9xrGvevQSC1mG74Xr-T5lh7P3gGCHuiz95azCyzOHUwSiB4I/s320/Maryuri+Smile.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088580645905248226" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This is my little Maryuri (pronounced Marjorie.) She is our little Gordita, which means fatty, but not in a cruel way. She is only three, but her past, though it be short, has been filled with tragedy. Her father sexually and physically abused her and her sister, Cindy. Maryuri has scars up and down her back from where her father took a knife to it. If you would see Maryuri today, you would never think she has such a horrible past. She has a really deep voice, so when she laughs it sounds like a grunt, and cracks me up. If possible, I would adopt this little girl in a heartbeat.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsU53y_ITiLOJS76Z8lVsZdERFReMWaNFg3d8Yi5ha2a5cJakRdekFdIV-oS0lWblIrQttaCIACP_S82lkc8BTuVZRDtTPy_CVXGE56Eqng_5wO3dISfjAZllNnIreRLTRndNK59brMBs/s1600-h/Katty+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsU53y_ITiLOJS76Z8lVsZdERFReMWaNFg3d8Yi5ha2a5cJakRdekFdIV-oS0lWblIrQttaCIACP_S82lkc8BTuVZRDtTPy_CVXGE56Eqng_5wO3dISfjAZllNnIreRLTRndNK59brMBs/s320/Katty+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088584159188496370" border="0" /></a><br />This is Katty, mi dinosaura (my dinosaur.) I don't know about you, but she reminds me of a dinosaur and now responds to that nick name I gave her. Katty is three and is a very cuddly little girl. When she runs she looks like a little gymnast. Out of her and her siblings, she seems to be the one that will turn out the most normal. Her past hasn't been that troubled, except for the fact that her parents are crazy, and before she went to Casita, she did not have a name and no one knows her exact birth date.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6ouLvvZowWl4NPkCTuv3PBXe07R1gru9MQ7SH-NYMfmxxie9muLSTPFkXcKJpkT6luEM0AltwfyO7oIJ4dK8NcjldurQMeHL-MWiHayekb1Oh3CV06dZyqPAzj7vsgMsL8edF_cFtrg/s1600-h/pamela+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6ouLvvZowWl4NPkCTuv3PBXe07R1gru9MQ7SH-NYMfmxxie9muLSTPFkXcKJpkT6luEM0AltwfyO7oIJ4dK8NcjldurQMeHL-MWiHayekb1Oh3CV06dZyqPAzj7vsgMsL8edF_cFtrg/s320/pamela+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088586216477831170" border="0" /></a>Pamela is our oldest girl her. She is ten and came here with her sister, Daniela, and her brother, Fitto. Her story is probably the saddest out of all of our kids. She was sexually abused multiple times by her older brother. Her mother knew about the abuse and did not do anything about it. She and siblings are not aloud to have visitations with their Mom because of this. Pamela is going through a bit of a rebellious phase, that I know with lots of prayer, will pass very quickly.<br /><br />Please pray for these sweet kids.<br /><br /><br />I am sorry that the text next to pictures are kind of messed up, but I think it will be alright.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-16992105447224694802007-07-14T08:32:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:56:02.899-08:00UtilaThere comes a point in life when a person just can't take the constant stress and activities of raising 16 children anymore. That point came for Ashley, Jen, and I around midnight Monday night.<br />Last Saturday, some of Ashley's friends came and stayed at Casa for two night. These three guys have been driving from Mexico through Latin America. All of their stories of their road trips were amazing and made us all jealous of their experiences. On Monday night, I brought up that I wanted to visit one of the islands that are north of Honduras before I left. The guys told us that the one they visited was really cheap and still nice. So, around midnight we decided that we all needed a break, and the next day we rented a car from the airport, and headed towards La Ceiba, Honduras. La Ceiba is the city that you have to depart from to get to any of the islands north of Honduras. The drive to Ceiba was beautiful. We saw a huge rainbow, beautiful landscapes, and Honduran people in their native environment. It is amazing how much Honduras has to offer and there isn't any tourism. Anyway, we arrived at Ceiba around 9:30 p.m. and checked into a very nice hotel. The next morning, we boarded a boat and headed to the Caribbean island of Utila. The boat ride was amazing- the water was so blue. When landed in Utila, we rented a four wheeler and scooter to ride around island, looking for a hotel. I got a little panicky while driving the scooter, but I don't think I caused too much damage. We stopped at this really nice hotel/house type deal that was built out on the water. We met the sweet lady who ran the place, and knew that we were going to be staying at this place. The room we stayed in was on the corner of the house, which meant that two of the sides had views of the ocean. This place screamed peace to us. We went to a private beach and spent some hours there, just relaxing in the calm waters. It was a good day for sure.<br />The next day, Ashley and I went snorkeling in the Caribbean Sea. Seeing all of the tropical fish was relaxing in itself. I love snorkeling because my mind just kind of shuts off. I don't think about anything, which I think is part of my current stress problem. It was nice to just float around in the water, with my only care being that fact that something might eat me. The rest of the day was just resting. We all needed to rest. Before we came, we had reached our limit, and gone beyond it. It was nice to recharge.<br />It is amazing what three tired people can come up with at midnight. I thank God for our spontaneity.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1YpEvyalM7yfSYmjGgEGyTN7nE2wjjLAemQLWHRnqkREfd8wi4PbcWacFza-W72b6PV17MrI04pNOJ98IYUmUNGS-KvfT4f0VQBAFH9Hg3VH7atQUSzJYhT9-K99-Ndp_xVx8ZwPaV0/s1600-h/CIMG1121.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1YpEvyalM7yfSYmjGgEGyTN7nE2wjjLAemQLWHRnqkREfd8wi4PbcWacFza-W72b6PV17MrI04pNOJ98IYUmUNGS-KvfT4f0VQBAFH9Hg3VH7atQUSzJYhT9-K99-Ndp_xVx8ZwPaV0/s320/CIMG1121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087084051666055042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nO_FPqNt0mXbNl91fPhF7mmu0j3j-GhlNNtIQUlyb8GZ_zC3Rg4vY0PMo9JXb9J2E5dxJiDMhnrmi44AqhKCgsu1tvt2MqU2tYwqFfW8AquvHfpsWvfWyM_OnaV4FOoa1D7U8HkT08g/s1600-h/CIMG1122.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nO_FPqNt0mXbNl91fPhF7mmu0j3j-GhlNNtIQUlyb8GZ_zC3Rg4vY0PMo9JXb9J2E5dxJiDMhnrmi44AqhKCgsu1tvt2MqU2tYwqFfW8AquvHfpsWvfWyM_OnaV4FOoa1D7U8HkT08g/s320/CIMG1122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087084820465201042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hUyvIqDFtZHZdRWhP4kVHEb5-tqdO3tPs9Btj8Aop50ZbfdzDhq0sHl55Mv4gjAGvnxj34Pl1tuVRYEIbHBgrmQYpyZdlgzP-DsZ2K0vCZ7xw2bAAtKK0zahRCOAs-32RRVI8xbtdiw/s1600-h/Utila+%281%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hUyvIqDFtZHZdRWhP4kVHEb5-tqdO3tPs9Btj8Aop50ZbfdzDhq0sHl55Mv4gjAGvnxj34Pl1tuVRYEIbHBgrmQYpyZdlgzP-DsZ2K0vCZ7xw2bAAtKK0zahRCOAs-32RRVI8xbtdiw/s320/Utila+%281%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087085434645524386" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX30Dc4hPAjqyDgTUsNVMYMUmRX7pfqSRdGOKHjOi9VsA8qMKDDBDDSldouUssIrSB6pqsUBLz63I9cAd74s59DhYarI6GzKNarehdZop9Fb1PqEtRl9PMBtwXDhzCBFyZUrgVLLn6fwk/s1600-h/Paradise.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX30Dc4hPAjqyDgTUsNVMYMUmRX7pfqSRdGOKHjOi9VsA8qMKDDBDDSldouUssIrSB6pqsUBLz63I9cAd74s59DhYarI6GzKNarehdZop9Fb1PqEtRl9PMBtwXDhzCBFyZUrgVLLn6fwk/s320/Paradise.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087085962926501810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqy2QN-DaKQN-z_RK3neJeX91i6yP5tpXtCsHbwCNiMIpjAG6ES5Rvy2oXPL4JE_1y2VmxuFpnD2a-rEs22UVYRz7lKKYLFWdSYFumo_x1E1qq6P88tlrfVruL1WB6iAtE3Ka2BHwHsgw/s1600-h/Peace.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqy2QN-DaKQN-z_RK3neJeX91i6yP5tpXtCsHbwCNiMIpjAG6ES5Rvy2oXPL4JE_1y2VmxuFpnD2a-rEs22UVYRz7lKKYLFWdSYFumo_x1E1qq6P88tlrfVruL1WB6iAtE3Ka2BHwHsgw/s320/Peace.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087087328726101954" border="0" /></a>Peace... Thank you Lord!JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-90782092074817592232007-07-09T18:08:00.000-07:002007-07-09T18:35:50.980-07:00Our Run Aways<p class="MsoNormal">Sorry for the delay but things seem to never slow down around here. Really, we are afraid to sleep, watch a movie, let alone leave the property, for fear that something catastrophic will occur. Which leads me into this next post.<br />Last Monday, we all decided to go over and all say goodnight to the kids, not just the people on shift. Sam went over a little before Ashley, Jen, or I did, and came and told us that four of the boys were not in the house. That is correct, we had four run aways. My instinct at first was to check under their beds, thinking that they were just playing a little game on us. Not so much a game. Then I ran outside and started looking in the woods behind the property. With no flash light, and the sun setting around 6, if the kids had been out there, I would have never seen them. Jen decided drive the truck around <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Santa Ana</st1:place></st1:City>, just in case they had been sneaky enough to get past the guard and barbed wire fence. Sam and I decided to join her. We stood in the bed of the truck, looking everywhere for the kids. Jen asked everyone we passed if they had seen four little boys. Though one can see many odd sites in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Honduras</st1:place></st1:country-region>, people seemed to remember exactly for boys headed towards the main road. We finally found them two miles away. They were trying to hitch a ride with us before they realized who was in the truck. Jen yelled at the boys to get in the truck, and I actually had to jump out and retrieve one of our run aways. <br />When all was said and done, the boys were tucked away safely in their warm beds, with a meal waiting for them in the morning. Though they didn't realize this, no matter where they were trying to go (which happened to be <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">El Salvador</st1:place></st1:country-region>), Casa was the place where they belonged.<br />Again on Friday, the boys bolted. I know, really? This time they were gone for a much longer time, and got about 10 miles away. I was asleep when Jen pulled into property with them in the back of the truck, but my parent instinct kicked in and I knew they were here.<span style=""> </span>During both of the adventures, I was so confused why they didn't realize that Casa was their home. Casa was the place where they get three full meals a day. Casa is place where they get to sleep in a comfortable bed every night. Most of all, Casa is a place where they are loved by many people. I wish that they would just get it.<br />I sometimes think, however, that we are just like them. We think that if we just did things our way, and were on our own, we would be better off. God, though, knows what is best for us. He knows that with Him we are safe. He knows that with Him we can find comfort. He knows that with Him we will be taken care of. He is love. When we run away from Him, he must think the same things that I did on Monday and Friday. He wishes we would just get it.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"></p>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-72123726736367423362007-07-04T22:35:00.000-07:002007-07-04T22:52:41.069-07:00A Parent, Part 2Last Friday was visitation day with some of the parents. We loaded everyone into the back of the truck (which we later found out was a "no-no") and headed to Casitas Kennedy, the state-run orphanage in Tegucigalpa. Even before we pulled through the gates of Casitas, some of the boys started yelling for their Mom and older brother. They were so excited to see them. At first, I met Maria and Johnny, the boys' (Yovani, Marvin,.. etc.) mom and older brother. They are sweet, sweet people. You can truly tell that Maria loves her boys. She brought food and presents for them even though she probably couldn't afford it, and simply wanted to spend time with her boys. I then met Gabby, Cindy and Maryuri's mom. She wasn't as pleasant as Maria, bet you could tell that she just wanted to be with her girls. She took the girls underneath the playground equipment, and then inside of the equipment, trying to escape from others so all of her attention was on her sweet girl. Fani, Brian and Rudy's mom, showed up a little late because her baby was sick. She brought the baby and Brian and Rudy's younger brother, Daniel. The whole time we were at Casitas, Brian and Rudy played, held, and loved on their little brother. Rudy can have a very hard exterior; however, that rough exterior melted away when he was with his brothers. I have never seen him smile so much. I would tell you about Monica, Fernando, and Katty's parents, but they are crazy and caused a major commotion, therefore, I am not going to get into that. <br />After the fun at Casitas, we headed to Pizza Hut with all of the families (minus the crazy one) so that the kids could spend more time with them, and the moms could get fed. Once everyone was finished with their meal, the kids had to say goodbye to their mom's. I actually think that I was more sad to see them leave. After only seeing their moms once a month for many months, the kids have become very familiar with goodbyes.<br />I truly believe, however, that these parents are much happier, knowing that their kids are being fed, bathed, and put to bed every night.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-89561120963842396612007-07-03T19:10:00.000-07:002007-07-03T19:15:12.273-07:00A Parent, Part 1<p class="MsoNormal">I feel like I need to apologize, again, to those who are still taking time out of their days to check this. <span style=""> </span>The next month I promise to write at least twenty posts.<span style=""> </span>I know some of you already doubt this, and others of you feel cheated by this number, but this is what I promise to you.<span style=""> </span>Now on to the things that you came here to read about:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last Monday, after bath time, we noticed that Mario was having an allergic reaction.<span style=""> </span>We are still not sure what he is allergic to, but he had hives all over his body.<span style=""> </span>Jen decided that he needed to go to the emergency room just in case something serious could happen.<span style=""> </span>So, Jen, Mario, Carlos, Nathan, and I (I know, the amount of people was excessive, but it kept us entertained.) jumped in the truck and headed towards the city.<span style=""> </span>At the hospital, we didn’t have to wait long at all for Mario to get checked.<span style=""> </span>Let me take a moment for a side note and say that other than Hospital Escuela, the hospitals here have impressed me.<span style=""> </span>At home, people wait for hours to get any medical attention in the emergency room.<span style=""> </span>Also, it was remarkably cheap for Mario to get checked out.<span style=""> </span>Anyway, the doctor looked at him and decided that he needed two shots to get the hives to disappear.<span style=""> </span>Mario did not like the idea of a needle being stuck in him.<span style=""> </span>Jen, Nathan, and I had to forcibly hold him down as the doctor gave him the shots in his behind.<span style=""> </span>I do not have a weak stomach when it comes to needles, but that night I could not look as the nurse stuck the shot in him.<span style=""> </span>You know I think I fully understand why my Dad got lightheaded when I had my toe surgery a couple of years ago. At the time, I didn’t understand why after the surgery I was walking around and he had to lie on the floor so he wouldn’t faint. It wasn’t because he was feeling any pain of his own, but because I was and he loves me.<span style=""> </span>For this same reason, I felt sick and couldn’t look when Mario got his shot.<span style=""> </span>This child is one, which if possible, I would adopt in a moment. He is my son.<span style=""> </span>After Mario got his shots, he didn’t want to talk to any of us.<span style=""> </span>Part of it was because we had playing with him before and told him he would have to get a shot, but then said we were kidding with him. Also, I think he was hurt because we allowed and helped someone put him in pain.<span style=""> </span>I think back and think of time when I had to do something I didn’t want to, but my parents knew was necessary. God is this same way; He knows what we need far longer than we do, and knows that sometimes we have to go through some pain to get it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next day, after nap time, I noticed that Mario had had hives once again, and they were worse.<span style=""> </span>The gang (minus Carlos, plus Dorian) loaded back in the truck and headed to the hospital, once again.<span style=""> </span>Just like the night before, we didn’t have to wait very long to get Mario on a bed and for a doctor to examine him.<span style=""> </span>This time, the doctor thought it was more serious than before.<span style=""> </span>He had an I.V. stuck in his little hand (and Mario didn’t cry at all) and started to put a lot of medicine into him.<span style=""> </span>I was so amazed by the amount of fluids that they put in the little guy.<span style=""> </span>The doctor told us that we would have to wait an hour, so that he could see the progress.<span style=""> </span>As we waited, Jen got on the bed with Mario and he fell asleep in her lap.<span style=""> </span>As he was sleeping, Jen said “It is amazing how much love God puts in your heart for a little guy.” How true is that.<span style=""> </span>God fills my heart with love every time I look or think about the kids here.<span style=""> </span>With amount of love inside of me, I know it can only come from God.<span style=""> </span>It is so good to know that if you take the love I have for the kids here and multiply it by a billion, it would still not match the love the God has for me. <span style=""> </span>Though I am only with this kids for another month (and the thought makes me sick), I know that my love for them will not just be left here, but will go with me where ever I go.<span style=""> </span>With God it is kind of reverse- though He never moves and changes, where ever I go, He still loves me.<span style=""> </span>You learn a lot about love and God when you become a parent, even it is for a short amount of time.<span style=""> </span>You, also, begin to appreciate the wisdom and love that your parents have.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Don’t worry folks, this is a three part post.<span style=""> </span>I promise, unless something exciting happens, I will post part two tomorrow.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.” <br /> Romans 8:38 & 30 (The Message)</p>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-55840314358871163792007-06-25T19:21:00.000-07:002007-06-25T19:35:32.037-07:00Thursday NightSo I promised to talk about Thursday night.<br /><br />On Thursday night, we went to join a group at Santa Lucea for a devo. On the way there Gracie, our van, started making a horrible noise and broke down. The radiator overheated. We luckily had a jug of water that we poured on/in the radiator. We, eventually, made it to the church only 15 minuets late. We sat up front because the group was huge and there were no seats in the church, so everyone was facing us and singing. It was amazing. After the devo we headed to Tony Roma's for supper. It was about 10 pm at the time, so we didn't finish until 11:30. We started back and we broke down again. It was like 12:15 at the time, and we were pretty much out of civilization. Also, I was the only guy (except for Yovani, Marvin, and Luby.) Around 12:45, Ashley and I managed to flag down a truck of guys that had a barrel full of water. God is good! We were kind of nervous because <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer; height: 1em;" id="lw_1182825174_5">Honduran</span> men don't have the best reputation, but these guys took care of us. We started back, and Gracie started making noise again, but we prayed her back to Casa de Esperanza. Gracie is out of commission for now, but another van is supposed to be coming soon.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-62899084856647982712007-06-24T18:30:00.000-07:002007-06-24T19:56:26.609-07:00What a Week!I know I promised pictures from last week, but too many things have happened this week for me to post pictures right now. I need to apologize to my faithful readers (though they be few) for not writing more often. I promise to write more.<br />Ok, now to get to this week. As I wrote in my last blog, Santos, one of the guards passed away early Monday morning. Jen and Ashley went to be with the family at the hospital, which I know was an eye opening experience. I would not give this experience justice if I tried to write my second-hand account, so you should check out <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.calledandcompelled.blogspot.com">Jen's Blog </a>or <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.ashinhonduras.blogspot.com">Ashley's Blog</a>. Their blogs excel mine by leaps and bounds, so if you are looking for quality writing, go take a look at their sites.<br />Throughout the week, I spent more time in the city (Tegucigalpa) than I have since I have been here. Just running errands, and eating in the city, we had some good times. I enjoy being here at Casa, but sometimes it is nice to get a change of scenery and see more of the country. <br />On Thursday night, we were planning on going to meet up with a group at Santa Lucea for devo, but Noel had taken Gracie (our van) and we were getting kind of annoyed because we knew we would not be able to eat before we went to the devo. We were sitting in the apartment when Jen walks in, and says "Are you ready for this?" In her hand was the hand of a little boy, who goes by the name of Luby. That's right, Luby, the boy who we had to take back to the judge a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, he had crawled under the gate at Casitas Kennedy early that morning. Gina, one of our good Honduran friends here, said that she went to visit him that day, and when she came to his room and found him not their, the people said that Luby had been saying throughout the week that he was going to see his momma. When they asked who his momma was, he said she was a gringo. He had gone to Jimmy Hughes first, the children's home because he didn't know how to get to Casa, and then he wrote on a Wrigley's gum wrapper "santa ana" and begged every bus driver to drive him here. When he first walked in, I didn't know how I felt. I was shocked, of course, happy that we was so happy, unsure because of his past visit, worried because the state didn't (and doesn't) he was here. Regardless of all of these emotions, he was back home- back to a place where he was safe and was loved. Earlier in the week, Jen asked the kids if they would be ok with Luby returning, and all of the kids were fine with it except Yovani. He is having a tough time with the new boys in the house because he is not the top dog anymore, and the boys sometimes picks on his little brothers. After Luby arrived, Jen had Yovani come back and Luby apologized for his actions in the past. I know that God's hand has been in all of this. Had Noel showed up any earlier, we would have left before he arrived. Had a bus driver not had compassion on this poor runaway, he would have never gotten here. God is alive and active! His plans are in constant motion whether you decided to recognize them or not.<br />I will post tomorrow about Thursday evening- it was quite a night. Please pray for us here, things are never dull.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-59509053286597295792007-06-18T19:44:00.000-07:002007-06-18T20:35:33.735-07:00GC GroupLast Saturday, a group of people from Grand Central (as well as many different places) arrived in Honduras. I was so excited to introduce my family at home to my family here. I missed my family from home a lot, and it was so nice to spend some much needed time together. It was great to see the reaction of people as we drove through the streets of Honduras- some people enjoyed, others thought that they were going to die.<br />The team from GC was so diverse- we had college students, teenagers, adults, families, some people that few knew about- the diversities could go on. Each person had their own specific talents- some knew how to communicate with the people here even though they couldn't speak the language, others had the gift of patient when others were not going the speed that they wished, some could make a child feel loved, others were good at building the houses. All of the people in the group were hand selected by God to serve in the way that God designed them to serve.<br />We to visit six children's homes. At each place, the kids were loved by 34 total strangers. They were given toys and candy, but most of all some body's time who actually cared for them. you could definitely see God's love through this group.<br />Five houses were built for needy families. The first house I helped build was built for a family who lived on this tiny plot of land, without a house on it. The place looked like the family had lived there for awhile. The plot was on a pretty steep slope and on rock, so building the house was a little difficult, but in the end that family did not have to spend the night out in the rain, but under their own roof. Another house I helped with was for a family with seven children. Donna, Sam, Jen, and Summer were told about this family while the group was at a food kitchen, and once they saw the families conditions they knew that God had planned for us to build them a house. The family was living in a house where water would rush in every time it rained, and soaked the one mattress that all nine family members slept on. The baby was sick with pneumonia because of their living conditions. I went with a small group of people that picked up bunk beds for the family and a couple of hammocks. After we set up the beds, two of the kids in the family argued over which bed they were going to sleep on. It was amazing, the night before they had no choice of where they were going to sleep, and now they can argue over who is going to sleep in what bed. <br />Friday night, the group stayed the night here at Casa. I loved having my two families become one big family. My parents got to spend time with their fifteen grandchildren here. It would have been nice had the electricity not been out, but those kinds of things happen here all of the time.<br />Saturday, we went to the state-run children's home, and their Luby, the boy that we had to take back to the judge, ran up to me and then to Jen. We had no idea that he was there; we thought he was at another children's home. He cried the whole time and told us that he wanted to come back. It is a difficult situation, so please pray for us, and especially Jen, as we have to make difficult decisions.<br />So many amazing things happened last week and I wish I had enough time and patience to write all of it down. This group shined not because of any great thing that we did, but because each and every person allowed God to shine through them. God's hands were in the work throughout the whole trip. I am so glad I was able to share this trip with so many people that I love at home.<br />I remember being in their shoes, being touched by the starving child, the confused mother, the broken father, the homeless family, the poverty, things that God never wanted to curse His children. I hope and pray that this group will never forget the things they saw, felt, touched throughout this short week, and will listen to God as He might call them back here. <br />Though the group had to say goodbye to this place that they fell so deeply in love with, God's work is constantly being done here. At the airport I saw three groups come in and continue the work that the GC group was privileged to be apart of.<br />I thoroughly miss my family now, but I can once again see why God called me back down here. I feel so honored that God would call me to a place you can tell where His heart is.<br />I will put some pictures of the week on here later.<br /><br />Things at Casa did not slow down just because Jen and I were gone for a week. This morning one of the guards here passed away. I am not sure what he was sick with, but if he was in the States he probably wouldn't have died. He left two children and his wife, so please pray for Santos's family.<br />Some of the kids here are sick. Antonio last night had a temperature of 105 degrees. He is doing much better now, but others in the house have fevers, also. Since some of the kids are sick, all of them will be shortly- it is one of the joys of 15 kids living together, they share everything. We need prayer as we tend to sick little kiddos.<br /><br />I love you all.JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-553079718050689147.post-26542489099455584302007-06-08T09:59:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:56:03.344-08:00New Babies!<div>Yesterday, Jen and Ashley had to go into town to run many errands. They arrived around 11 last night, and in their hands were two new babies. Don't worry, they were puppies. One of them is a golden lab and the other is this tiny cocker spaniel. They both have worms, so the kids can't play with them yet, but they are very excited. Some how last night, Ashley and I decided that the spaniel's name should be Damascus. It was late; it was very random. The lab doesn't exactly have a name yet. He gets called a couple of names. I am hoping that these puppies will survive. We haven't had to much luck in the past.</div><br /><div>Tomorrow some of my favorite people are coming to one of my favorite places. I am so excited that the Grand Central team is coming. I know that God will change their lives. Please pray as they travel tomorrow, and that everyone with set a couple of alarm clocks!</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073744453205317842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCU1tzkWCGh6qn6xrJmJJHZktR05sHhjZzbZn7pZ4wcP-byRiOhYJ3H6uhudiqjRdyllryjRIf2sVk5T8wDeheXnl5jM6V-5kV0qZ_sJfGcG5vpsK9KzhnTL7D9PuhtbTUVJrukOFqGw/s320/Sleepy+Perritos.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><p> They fell asleep in the clothes hamper</p>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011275838832792800noreply@blogger.com3