Fire Fire everywhere!

“But now, this is what the Lord says, He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.’” (Isaiah 43:1-2)

It was in the pickup when I was alone and on my way out to the Villa that I had this thought that turned into a prayer.  I was thinking about all the divine appointments that God had orchestrated while I was in the States last week,  especially in New York City.  And the thought/prayer was, "Lord, there is so much need in this country and an appointment set up by Your hand would be a blessing.  I want to experience You today."  I thought about how I was alone in the van and perhaps someone needed a ride.  And then other thoughts took over.

Elvia and I had already scheduled an appointment to interview a 14 year old girl who our administrator Saira knew from her village.  We picked her up at the bus station along with her step-father and went to drink coffee at  Honduras' version of Starbucks called Expresso Americano.  It was a good conversation and a very divine appointment in it's own right.  This young girl shared her story and it was clear that she was a captive needing desperately to be set free.  It was agreed that she would return the next day with her belongings.  The sense of excitement washed over me as we went our separate ways for today.  It's the feeling that I have become familiar with because it happens each time our family grows.

On the way back to the Villa there was a gaggle of girls hitching a ride on the side of the road.  They were all uniformed in their school attire and they giggled as they got into the van.  Elvia scolded them for bumming rides (it's very dangerous to do that in this country with the way things are) and then proceeded to ask them if they attended church.  We discovered that all three of them were from the village that Jericho Villa is a part of.  And they all attended the local church but one of them had not given her life to Christ.  She listened as I shared about heaven being a free gift and by the time we reached the village she was ready to pray and ask Jesus to come into her heart.  She bowed her head there in the back of the van and received the gift of eternal life.  So precious.  It was then that I remembered the prayer from the early morning journey to the Villa.

The fire just as it started out of the fire pit

It was after lunch that the fire incident occurred. It was the answer to the second part of the prayer earlier in the day....the one of experiencing God.   I was sloshing some poisonous liquid onto one of our wooden benches to kill the termites and Leslie was helping me.  I heard the distant cries from the children out behind the main building but for some reason they didn't register.  I slopped some more death onto those pesky termites when Leslie screamed, "Mama Bets, FIRE!"  Suddenly I realized that something very-not-good was happening and I ran with the rest of the children to the back of the building where we have a large fire-pit for burning garbage.  The garbage burning had gotten out of control and flames were everywhere inside and outside the pit.  I began to come to and realized I needed not only to help put the fire out but also keep 16 children from getting hurt. 

Josue was already teetering on rocks way too close to the burgeoning flames.  I yelled for him to stay back and in a half crazed state started to hit those flames with anything I could find including my flip flops which was not very productive.  I noticed our new boy Harold lugging a huge 5 gallon jug of water trying to whip out the water over the flames.  He had been too long in the heat and smoke so I wrenched the jug from him and managed to put out more of the flames.  The wind did not do us any favors and the fire seemed to move like huge waves.  It did not look good.  It was Angie who had the brilliant idea of opening the spigot on the water tank.  The water swooshed out and all the children could now easily fill their many and sundry water receptacles.  I don't know how long we stayed out there working as if some unknown hand was orchestrating our movements.  I only know that I was overwhelmed at how well we worked together to keep that baby, that wild wild fire, from ruining our home.  We stood there in the soot and smoke and thanked God, hand in hand, for delivering us.

Daniel and Paola reenacting the drama of the fire!

and again

That evening for supper we ate home made flour tortillas and beans outside near the outdoor clay stove since the electricity was once again turned off for God-only-knows what reason.  I decided it was time to try an old recipe I had invented years ago when I lived in a small village and sometimes, as a result of a lack of available desserts, I  would put peanut butter and chocolate chips on flour tortillas and then toast them until everything melted together.  It was one gooey fun mess and the kids loved it.  The trauma of the unexpected fire fighting seemed to lessen by the minute.

We thought that we were in the clear, that the gallon after gallon of water lugged and splashed  all over the place had done it's work.  So I was surprised when I was finally in bed and writing this to hear my name once again being screamed by young girls who were frantic because the flames had reappeared.  It was well after 11 pm and this time I responded faster than the last.  We all did.  It seemed strange that the very area that had burned was burning again.  Suddenly Mario, one of our volunteers, began to holler FIRE AQUI at the top of his lungs.  Not only was there fire behind the house but the outdoor clay oven had somehow also gotten out of control and the wood panels lovingly put up by a volunteer group were now on fire.  Now the children were becoming frightened.  It was one thing to go through one fire but THREE in one day?  The enemy had definitely overplayed his hand.

Just like with the initial fire, we now stood together to fight the spiritual battle that we knew was raging against us.  I was amazed at the spiritual perception of the children.  They knew that we needed to fight not against flesh and blood but against the principalities of darkness.  They prayed like I have never witnessed before.  Little Miguel had his eyes tightly shut and his hands raised and was walking to and fro and praying out loud with a fervor I have never seen in this child.  Mario led the worship and while they praised and prayed,  I led a small band to anoint the buildings with oil and proclaim His protection.  It was after midnight when we sensed God's peace and that we could all sleep.  We thanked Him over and over that we were all safe and healthy and that the fire had been contained.

Always God brings good.  That combo of earth, wind, and fire all mixed with water was not pretty.  It got all over us and I think I even slept with it between my toes.  But it drove us to a deeper place under His wings.  And that is always worth it.  We experienced Him in the middle of the fire.

The Burning Shack

Sara and Angie....our actresses

I just got back from my 3 days at the Villa…..God moved so powerfully.  The Lord spoke to us through the devotionals, the circumstances and a drama that the kids came up with for our Weds service.  It was awesome.  He just kept showing them (and me!) that "ALL things work together for good for those who love the Lord".   The kids so need to really believe that.  So do I.

  Our devotional was about a man who got stranded alone on an island and he found driftwood and made himself a shack.  He cried out to God for rescue and the next day his driftwood home went up in flames.  He complained to God asking why would God allow such a thing when he was already suffering so much.  Soon a rescue boat arrived.  He asked them how they knew he was there and they mentioned the smoke!  After we read that story was when Sara said it.  She said, “I think Hae Young’s being gone is our burning shack!” 

 Then in the evening they created a drama about a missionary who gets hit by a car while preparing to go on the mission field.  The missionary (played by Angie) loses her leg and has to wear a wooden one.  When she arrives in the bush with her translator (Sara), she is attacked by cannibals (the Villa boys and several of the younger girls)!  They bite her wooden leg and are surprised and frightened and this causes them to be open to the Gospel.  You should have seen the part where Sara translates what Angie’s says to the cannibals.  It was hysterical!  I was laughing so hard.  It sounded like a mix of grunts and Korean words and English.  Sara was so animated and funny!  Then we spent some time talking about how God uses really horrible things for our good!  It was such a sweet time.  

After that they opened up about how hard it was for them to have to adjust to having Elvia, Marlyn and me as their new leaders out there since we are all so different from Hae Young and Hye Jin and from each other.  I told them that I totally understood that, but challenged them to think about how hard it was for us too.  We are all experiencing the burning shack together!  The next morning around 3am the Lord awakened me to pray.  I was sleeping with the boys so I couldn’t really get up and sing out loud, so I sat there in bed, looking at the moon and began to sing songs of praise to Him from my heart.  I was so overwhelmed by His presence and I sensed Him saying, “Betsy, you have all that you need.  You have Me!”  So the next morning during the devotionals, I shared how God had touched me with that truth and asked them to consider dwelling on the given and sharing that which cannot be lost.  The Holy Spirit really seemed to touch each child and we ended up praying for the nations together, using a cloth map which had been tucked away and forgotten in a drawer.  So precious.

Hae Young wrote in the middle of the week saying that her doctor there said he thinks she has altitude sickness.   That seemed really strange since the Villa is only 3000 feet.  Her email was factual and lacked warmth which worried me.  But in total answer to prayer, she wrote again today even before I had a chance to answer her, and the tone was more like the Hae we know.  She says that now the doctor has found tumors in her thyroid (benign..... thanks be to God) and that the fatigue continues.  I am so wanting to be there with her because I know that the greatest battle she faces is in her mind, no matter what the source of her disease.  So please pray that that God Himself will keep helping her stand on the truth and that He will heal her completely. She has children to care for and many miles to go before she sleeps!

 

River joy

Truly this has not been one of the easiest at the Villa.  One malfunctioning well pump+ 26 children on vacation for a week equals some wild happenings and smells!  But the not-having-of-something makes you oh so grateful.....

and yesterday was just pure joy in that river.  An unexpected blessing in the middle of much water hauling!

Our sixth grade teacher, Keidy, invited us to have lunch in the home she grew up in with her family.  Home for her is an hour by dirt road from the Villa.  We set out, all 28 of us smooshed into the two Jericho vans, and arrived dusty and dry after that bumpy road trip.    

Keidy's mum (actually her grandmother who raised her) was waiting for us.  She had prepared a huge pot of arroz con pollo (chicken and rice) and had made a juice out of a local fruit called Nance.  Her humble home was ours for several hours and it was such a blessing to wash clothes in her pila (outdoor cement basin with a cement washboard) and to take real showers.

Keidy serving arroz con pollo

Keidy and her Mama

Keidy and Juan Carlos

I think it was Keidy's idea but we were all thinking about it.  We had seen the river on our way into town.  It was the cleanest looking river I have ever seen here, not the usual muddy colored, litter strewn rivers you commonly see.  No, this one was inviting and it had a strong current.

entering the river

my swimming buddy

Julio, Carmen, Lissel, and Vanessa

Juanca 

"Welcome to the Swimming hole at the Bridge"

pinl parasol lifeguards

River joy

We walked  in together, tentatively at first, not sure of the depth or the strength of the current.   Julio was the first to plunge into the swirling water and it took him down quickly but without harm. We watched him bob up and down the river as he just barely missed rocks along the way.   Soon pairs of children (we use the buddy system while swimming) were plunging and floating, swirling and giggling as the current took them down the river.  I don't know how long we played like that.  I totally lost track of time and of facts like the age of my frame.  The river carried us, cradled us.....and our worries seem to float right down that river.  And we burst into joy.

We still don't have that water pump working but somehow the water feels lighter in the bucket today, knowing that the One who takes care of us knows what we need and surprises us with joy.

Growing in the hard places or what to do when trials persist

A friend told me once that wild orchids tend to grow in the cracks and crevices.  She said they seem to thrive in the rocky, hard-to-grow places, and that they are a lot heartier than one might think by the looks of them. We happened  upon some at the place we call lookout mountain on our Villa property.  Sara, our fearless one, who swats at invading bats without blinking an eye, got close.

 Before I knew what was happening, Josue had snatched one of the blooms and came running up to show us his conquest.































 I think that is us in these days.....needing to grow stronger between the rocks and the hard places, where our only answer is God.   It is not Red Sea in proportion but it sure feels that way.   It seems like there is one trial after another, the pressure does not let up and it's constancy threatens to make us weary of well doing.  I read this recently from streams in the desert:

"We are troubled on every side" (2 Cor. 7:5).  Why should God have to lead us thus, and allow the pressure to be so hard and constant?.....Well,it makes us more conscious of our dependence upon Him. God is constantly trying to teach us our dependence, and to hold us absolutely in His hand and hanging upon His care.  It teaches us trust.  There is no way of learning faith except by trial.  The lesson of faith once learned, is an everlasting acquisition and an eternal fortune made; and without trust even riches will leave us poor.  --Days of Heaven upon Earth

Some of the trials are emotionally taxing, especially for the children......like Hae Young sensing she needs to stay in Korea for some unknown amount of time.  Some of the trials have been almost weirder than science....like Elvia thinking she had an infected mosquito bite when it was actually a worm growing under her skin!  We all are suspicious now of every raised bump.  Some of the trials have been on the absurd side....like all four of our cars breaking down at the same time.  Some of the trials have been financial in nature....like waiting for the funds to come in for our three University students who have come to the near end of their days off.  And some of the trials are quite personal in nature......like living in a half packed up home due to the landlord's need to return while waiting upon God to show us where He wants us to go with all our boxes of stuff.   Reading the scriptures, I am reminded that this is not something new under the sun:  it is merely to cause us to cling.  Like those wild orchids clinging to the side of the rock ,bringing beauty in unlikely spots, we are learning to lean into Him more and more and to have joy in the midst of it all.  That's the rub really.....finding joy in the middle of the trials.

Tonight I can hear my eldest boy on the porch.  He is singing praises at the top of his lungs, really belting it out.   Joy comes slipping under the door to the rest of us listening in.   It reminds me that this is what I need to do.  When the enemy whispers in my ear, "it's not worth it, it's too much, why don't you give up?" , the praise teaches me to rephrase the question into a statement.  "Is this really worth it?" becomes everything is worth it because HE is Worthy*.  Worthy is the Lamb who was slain and who sits on the throne reigning in majesty.  The perspective shifts, the attitude changes....joy comes.  He is Worthy to be praised in all situations. He will make a way where there is no way.  He will not leave us half packed or wormy or without all that we need to carry on.

So on we go, rejoicing (or at least trying to) in the trials, holding tightly to His hand, resisting the enemy....... learning from the wild orchids.

The man who toils rejoicing in his God has success guaranteed.”   Charles Spurgeon

*a teaching from Helen Roseveare

Sunbeams

Isa in her normal mode

Isa at rest

She was not sleeping, that littlest one of mine, and so I caved into her begging to lay down beside her for just a minute or two.  I began to sing her one of my favorite songs as a child from Sunday School.  "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam to shine for Him each day, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam to shine in every way". That was how the song went but I thought it said "sunBEAN" and so I would imagine myself as a little bean giving off light for Jesus!  Fast forward almost fifty years and I am living in the land of beans three times a day and singing this to my 4 year old.  She gets it somehow and cocks one eyebrow and says "frijoles para Jesus???" and bursts into laughter.  She is smarter than I can fathom.  I don't remember how long we laughed at that frijol joke and then we sang and sang that song together until she finally dozed off.  Two minutes it was not.  I love it that God knew long before I would ever have imagined it that I would sing about Jesus and beans, then live in a country where beans are the main menu, and live to laugh about it with a child given to me out of wedlock (like all of my children) all the while trying to shine for Him.  So amazing is our Lord of the shiny beans!

Let the children arise

A beautiful sister in Canada sent me the link www.kidsarise.com stating that she thought Jericho might like to host this event.  Not really known for our hosting prowess, we prayed and waited for a green light from God.  The burden grew and we decided to join the throng of children and adults around the world in a 24 hour prayer chain to dedicate this next generation (ages 4-14 in particular) to the Lord!

Our thoughts led us to invite the children's homes whose ministries are similar to ours:  rescuing and redeeming the children whom world has deemed unredeemable.  It seemed like a perfect plan.

As the day drew nearer, we began to experience difficulties.

Like home after home contacting to say that they could not come for some reason or another.

Our balloon man angel

And then on THE day, our designated keyboard player did not show up.  We had been fasting and praying for this event but now we had to pause everything and cry out to God more intensely.  It was Janny, one of our teachers, who had the idea first.  She had been chatting with the young man who came to help us with the balloon towers.  He was a pastor's son and just "happened" to be a worship leader in his church. And guess what instrument he played?  Yep, he was a keyboard player.  This balloon man turned out to be a major gift from God.  Not only was he willing to stay and play but he also was the only one who was tall enough to hang the map of the world that we had meticulously painted for the event.

going out to the highways and byways

There is a story in the Bible about a party that was thrown and all the invitees could not come so the fiesta givers went out to the highways and byways to bring in the lost.  So that's what we did.  Our "event" didn't really look as polished and lovely as what we saw online but that little ragtaggle band of children praised and worshipped and listened to the heart of Jesus and when it came time to declare Isaiah 61:1-3 over them, the presence of the Lord was palpable and real.  Gisela, our preschool teacher, then prophesied over the children and God spoke Words of encouragement and vision into their lives.

Janny and our children

  a ribbon with Arise 2012 stamped on it was our version of the Arise tee-shirt

Listening to God

God showed Susana that she would be used as a Psalmist in the future

At the very end we all spent time asking Jesus to speak to our hearts.  The children wrote down or drew pictures of what they sensed God had spoken.  One little boy whom Marlyn had scooped up off the streets came running forward.  As I asked him what he had heard from the Lord, he announced boldly that God had showed him that He loved him!  Another young boy had drawn a cross with a man kneeling before it.  He explained that God had shown him that he would be used to bring many to the cross of Christ!

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon us, because the LORD has anointed us to proclaim good news to the poor.  He is sending us to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD'S favor and the day of vengeance of our God, and to comfort all who mourn......and we will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor."  Isaiah 61:1-3  Let the children ARISE.  It is Time!

What the enemy meant for evil.....

I was sharing with a missionary today in my office when I got a call that our house had been burglarized and that I needed to get home at once.  The news came in bits and pieces through my cell as we headed home in the busito.   The painters that our landlord had hired were painting the garage.  It occured around 2pm in broad daylight .  The thieves had guns.  The second floor was a disaster area.  The police had been called. Twice. 

All I could think about was Noe’s passport which I had left on my dresser.  It had cost us so much to get it and we had to have it for him to go to Christ for the Nations.  Was that hard won passport now in the hands of unruly men to be sold on the black market?    I imagined the worst….clothes strewn everywhere, drawers pulled out and emptied onto the floor.  Christmas decorations smashed and ransacked.  I dropped the kids off at Elvia’s so that they didn’t have to see the mess.

The landlord and the painters were standing outside the house when we arrived.  The story unfolded slowly as the painter in charge began to explain how the robbers forced the door with a crowbar and herded the painters at gunpoint into the first floor bathroom and set a chair in front of the door to keep them inside.  Then they ransacked the upstairs and left the first floor pretty much untouched. 

I didn’t want to go inside but I knew I had to inspect the damage.    We decided to enter and just look at everything so as not disturb the crime scene should the police ever show up (hope springs eternal)!   I was so thankful that the scene I had envisioned was not at all a reality.  My drawers were open and things were strewn on the bed, but the passport was just where I left it.  I breathed a prayer of thanks.


All my jewelry was gone including my granddaddy’s watch, a bracelet of charms I had collected in Europe when I was a child, my grandmother’s ring, and a gold calla lily pin received from a dear Honduran friend years ago.  But a glimmer caught my eye and thankfully, I spied first one, and then two earrings on the floor…bent and smashed but still wearable.  They were a  pair of gold scrimshaw earrings that my dearest friend from High School had given me for my birthday one year.   In their hurry to dump the jewelry into the pillowcase, the earrings had ended up on the floor instead of in the case. One string of pearls that Hae Young’s friend in Korea had given me lay curiously alone in the now otherwise empty jewel box.  Marlyn found her drawers opened, her earrings gone and her computer case empty.  But a small box of her favorite rings was still there on her dresser hidden behind a frame.  The girls drawers* were all opened as well but they left the boys room alone.

After a while we realized that the police were not coming.  Maybe it was just as well since you never know here if the police will be a help or a hindrance.  The Honduran equivalent of 911 doesn't really exist.  As Marlyn and I prayed through each room to spiritually cleanse them, waves of gratitude washed over me.  I was so thankful that the painters were alive, the house was not a total disaster and that none of us had been home.  I decided to fight back the best way I knew how.  Remembering how horrible it was to have a gun pointed at me, not once but twice, I thought about those painters.  The landlord and the painters were still outside and they were just finishing up when I felt led to take out the sword of the Spirit.  I asked them if they had the assurance of eternal life.  They began to share about how they felt when the thieves held the gun to the lead painter’s neck.  None of them were sure of heaven and two of them said they knew they would have gone to hell if the robbers had used the gun on them.  They were ready to accept the Gift of Eternal Life, the Only True Savior.   We prayed and then I gave them Bibles and it felt good to know that what the enemy had tried to use for evil was now being used for heaven’s gain.

We then went caroling with the kids.  Elvia started this tradition last year and it is a small way for us to show our gratitude to the folks who have been a support to us during the year.  The kids look amazing in their shiny red robes and Isabella is a big hit with her antics.  We visited four families delivering Christmas cheer and brownies to show our gratitude.   The robbers could not take our joy or our gratitude.  I am so thankful to Him for sparing those painter’s lives and for giving them eternal life!  God is good…..all the time!  Keep us in your prayers……we will you!

The real treasures were unharmed

Jency

*Jency, after inspecting her drawers, stated that the robbers had taken some of her underwear!  We assured her that they most likely had not taken her panties.

A Holy Moment

Pastor Francis invited us and 12,000 was the number he said would be there.  Well, ok then.  Our girls will prepare a drama and be there with bells on.  Save our Youth Rally 2012, baseball stadium, Tegucigalpa.

The youth in Honduras need saving, there is no doubt about that. Pastor Francis has a heart for young people in trouble.  Dressed in a well-worn suit that hangs uncomfortably off his tall frame, he is drawn to the most desperate, the pierced, the tattooed, the hardened, the wounded beyond imagining.  His father heart for the fatherless has already changed thousands of young lives. 

There were tons of young people but perhaps not 12,000.  Still it was a much bigger crowd than our girls had ever performed before.  They had fasted and prayed for several days asking the Lord to use them.  Their drama/dance was about the power of Jesus to set people free. 

It took some setting our faces like flint just to get into the stadium.  With one small opening for thousands, the crowd became a sea of death threatening waves.  Our Jericho family got caught up in it until panic set in and we had to push, shove our way to the fray.  A young pastor saw our plight and pulled me and Susana, now clamped onto my hand, out of the crowd into the back of a pickup truck and then out to where the sea of people dwindled.  The whole family followed holding hands, up into the bed of the truck and then back down again.  The pastor led us to another opening hidden behind street vendors.  Once inside we inhaled relief and gathered for prayer. 

Pastor Francis had mentioned something about a program but it became obvious that there was nothing written down.  He asked me to pray for the children of Honduras, for the sexually abused and trafficked, for the dysfunctional families.  I took a deep breath, joined the pastors on stage, and prayed for God to fill my mouth.  My turn, screaming voice ready, I stepped out and lifted my right hand.  We were at war.  These were not nice soft whispered prayers.  These were prayers to cut off the plans of the enemy, to declare null and void plans of abuse, destruction and death.  The who-knows-how-many-thousands all raised their hands with me and together we got mad at the enemy.  The last thing I remember is yelling “Prayer is not a vain thing” which I truly believe.  God hears our war cries and responds in the heavenlies.

 our girls post drama with miss Katie.  Paola is in the middle

The drama went well by God’s grace.  If the girls were nervous, it was not apparent.    These seven young girls, plucked by God from the miry clay, are being transformed before our very eyes.  Their early days filled with abuse, betrayal and rejection are now filled with living for the One who reached down to unstick their feet and free their minds.  One girl, Paola, when she first came would melt into a mess of tears whenever she was addressed directly.  Now here she was performing on stage in front of this huge wildly energetic crowd.  Face bearded with my sable eye pencil, her long hair flowing, borrowed baptismal gown wrapped around her thin frame as her outstretched arms held back the powers of darkness (the other girls dressed in black)…..it was an amazing thing to behold this fragile timid child portraying Jesus.  His strength powered through her.  And so we stood, awed, especially those of us who know her, at the beauty of God's power made perfect in our weakness.

Then the lights dimmed and the concert began. Young people jumping and shouting and energy everywhere just seemed to drain me.  I sat on a makeshift seat behind the crowds and felt much older than my 54 year old frame.  I began to wonder how to find Jesus in all this ruckus.  The answer became obvious.  I needed to join in the wildness, partake of the dance.  Several of my children standing nearby now became dance partners as we held hands and skipped forward and backward keeping time with the praise.  The night sky our canopy, the twirling and spinning bubbled out laughter as we praised Him in the dance.  He must have been made visible to the street vendor child now grabbing my hand begging me to take him on a whirl.  I don’t know how long we danced like that, grabbing joy out of His outstretched hand.  Then suddenly I stopped us.  I asked this boy child, not more than ten, unknown to me, if He knew the Lord of the dance.  No, not at all, but he would like to.  So we bowed our heads, swirling now fading around us, and he asked Jesus to come into his heart.  An unexpected Holy Moment in the middle of the stadium roar.  

Leaving the nest

We are in the thick of it, filling out forms, reading fine print, applying for a passport.  There's so much to do in the wink of an eye and I cannot believe that it's finally come to this.  The thing I have longed for,dreaded, with all the ensuing emotions, is finally here.  My first born son is going off to college.

Older brother Mario with Noe and Mari

I can't actually claim his birth.  He slid into my life through a different channel, stealing my heart with his pathetic appearance and sweet shy smile.  He was actually four, not the three we had calculated due to his size and lack of birth records.  A big crossed out X still covers the 4 in his baby book that followed the words "Noe turns" and a big 5 is by the photo of him blowing out his first Birthday cake, ever.  That first day, another X formed by two crisscrossed bandaids  on the left side of his forehead when peeled back  revealed a large scabby wound that was struggling to heal. His abdomen protruded, his hair resembled wheat...classic signs of malnutrition. He had come to live with me and another missionary named Suzy because the mother was long gone and the father was addicted to selfish decisions.  The grandmother, crawling with numerous grandchildren, asked us, no begged us, to take, first the sister, and then Noe. Despite the obvious signs of neglect, there was a sweetness about him, a winsomeness.

Sometimes, when God is about to add or subtract something from my life, He gives me a heads up, but this one came out of the blue.   I was single and not really planning on taking on other people's children.  Mari had been with us a year already and I was still praying that God would do the sensible thing and provide a stable mother/father family.  But as time passed and no beautiful adoptive family appeared, my heart wound tighter and tighter around those two.  They became ours.

Noe was all boy from the start.  He thought he could fly, taking leaps off anything higher than the floor until  that one plunge from the upper bunk scarred him for life.  Homestitched him right on the cranium, that's what Dr. Elvia did.  He was convinced he was the next superhero.  I remember he could not remember.  In a string of directions, he could maybe remember, say, one thing.  Our visiting doctor friend from the States, post IQ test, stated that he would either grow up to be an absent minded professor with an agitated secretary trailing behind him or a very good criminal.  One can only hope.....and pray.  I remember him calling me for the umpteenth time from the bathroom because he once again forgot his towel.  While his memory languished, his ear flourished.  He picked up English in 6 months, parroting back the sounds he heard in the home.  The Korean team that came the summer of his 7th year was impressed at how he could repeat the sounds of Korea.  They say that those who are good with languages are also good with music.  That should have been my first clue that music would play a huge part in forming his life.  But there were other clues on the horizon.

Noe's graduation from 6th grade

He was in sixth grade when his teacher called me into the office.  It was Noe's best friend Eduardo who had tipped his mother off about Noe's extra-curricular activities.  So Eduardo's Mom, who happened to be my dearest friend, told me the scoops.   Noe was in possession of a number of soccer uniforms. Donated from a  visiting mission team, he was instructed to share them with the needy.  By the time I got wind of it he had already sold two uniforms at school for $25 each and had plans to sell more.  His teacher had also gotten wind of the informal soccer shop and hence the meeting.  I was livid and I know I disciplined him though I cannot recall for the life of me what it consisted of.  But a mental note was tucked away:  possible future entrepreneur.

And then there were the accidents.  One day he decided to cram his big feet into his sister's small roller skates.  As he wildly wound recklessly around the park at speeds too high for those sister skates, I called out to him to slow down.  Two seconds later he was on his back with his arm twisted behind.  Many hours and a full arm cast later, he had received instructions from the doctor to keep his arm upright all night long to prevent possible surgery.  So guess who stayed up all night keeping it upright?  Not the 10 year old.  But curiously enough, years later on a trip to Guatemala when we rented dirt bikes to tour the back roads, it was his voice I heard from behind me cautioning me to slow down just 2 seconds before I gripped the wrong brakes and went flying over the handlebars.  Thankfully there were no broken bones this time.  Just a very bruised ego.

Perhaps at 13 the music began for him.  He took free lessons from the leaders of the worship team at church. Guitar, drums, keyboard, he ate it all up.  A woman who has prophetic gifts spoke over him.  "Salmista" (one who worships and writes melodies to God) is what she spoke through the power of the Holy Spirit. Another tucking into my heart.  He lived and  breathed and took much joy in all that was worship before the King of Kings. The music wooed him into a love relationship with Jesus.  Soon he was not only playing in the band but leading worship with others at the service and then leading alone.  There was a definite anointing.  I remember thinking that most moms who have kids of this age are at odds with them over music.  By God's grace, the songs Noe would choose to play ad nauseum on his cell phone were songs I loved.  God spared us the wrath that occurs when music styles clash and the turbulent relationship that often characterizes the teenage years.


But God would test him in a different way during his last years of High School.  The testing came in the form of an illness.  Mine to be exact.  And not just an ordinary illness but a rare incurable one that brought us all to our knees.  The test was in the mind.  God spoke scriptures of healing into our situation so Noe had to learn to choose to believe the promises of life and living, and to reject those of death despite what he could see.  It was not pretty.  My body, deformed, life seeping out of it, while God made noises about it all being for His glory.  Doubts crouched at the door.  What would life without Mom be like?  Would the family which had grown to include other siblings now be broken and torn like the first family he had barely known?  How could God so full of love allow such a thing to a daughter and those under her wings if He truly loved them all?   And then in the prayer times, the times of waiting upon Jesus, he learned to believe for the impossible.   It all caused him to depend upon God not only as a Father but as a Friend who could hold his heart even in the valley of the shadow of death.  While we all awaited the signs of the promised healing, Noe took on the tasks that I could not.  He learned to make a mean spaghetti, washed and hung his siblings clothes, fixed things around the house and just served us all without complaint.  God's grace poured out through a 17 year old servant son.

Noe (center) leading worship with Dani and Eduardo

This affair with melodies sung to Jesus has gripped him hard.  He  has chosen a Bible college called Christ for the Nations.  We are applying now.  Well, actually he is applying now.  I do want him to go.  I really do.  I want him to fly, this precious scar-headed entrepreneur superhero servant son we call Noe.  This beautiful God given boy who came so lonely and ragtaggle, so futureless and scrawny.   Who would have known that he would be used by God to change so many lives... mine.  He has to start trying his wings, but this time, this time it's on the WINGS of another, the realio trulio SuperHero holding his hand.  Of course I want to be there...who is going to call out from behind to tell him to slow down and who will hold his heart upright?  Who will remind him about the things he forgets?


As if that isn't enough, the "enough" questions assault my brain.  Did I do enough?  Did I prepare him well enough?  Did I love him enough?  Did I live out Christ's life well enough before him?


The answer is the same for each question.  Trust JESUS.  The same one who took care of me when my parents let me fly off to college and then off to a foreign land for the rest of my life.  That same SAFE HAVEN will hold my boy when I cannot.  That beautiful Friend who taught him to trust even in the dark days will be with him.  He is ENOUGH.


And so we prepare for flight.  The nest will be different.  We will adjust our weight and move the feathers around a bit, perched and waiting, eyes uplifted watching to see how the soaring goes, trusting in the One who gives flight. I don't think the nest will be empty anytime soon.  There are still so many in the wings, each with their own stories of His healing and glory.  Each with their own time to fly.

'via Blog this'

Something said I had to write, to be a witness to his gifted life

The news of his death touched me deeply but instead of sadness, a deep peace flooded my soul. David Wilkerson was in glory land. There was a knowing, a total assurance that this godly man, had gone directly into the presence of Jesus. I met him years before, not up close and personal, but through the media. His life and writings had a huge impact on my life. His obedience to Christ was unrivaled in my experience.

I first became aware of his life when I saw the movie The Cross and the Switchblade. It was all about Brother David’s call to the streets of New York. Later when God called me to the streets of Tegucigalpa, I read the book many times to glean wisdom from His experiences. We were hungry to learn from other ministries and on our way back from Amsterdam (where we had visited ministries to prostitutes) Hae Young and I got stranded in Miami. She did not have a Honduran visa to get back into the country and it was Easter weekend so we booked a room at Howard Johnson’s and decided to visit the local mall. We first visited a perfume shop and God allowed us to lead two of the shopping attendants to Christ. We needed Bibles to leave with them so we went across the street to purchase them at the mall. As God would have it, Nicky Cruz was speaking at the special pavilion at the mall and he was due to speak in 20 minutes! Nicky was one of the wild gang members that David led to the Lord in his early years of ministering on the streets. Not only was he speaking there, but they were giving out free paperback Bibles. We had just enough time to take the Bibles to our perfume sisters and found our seats within spitting distance from this amazing legend in his own right. Nicky was full of fire and he told stories of how David, in his naivety, was used powerfully to bring gang members to the feet of Jesus. God used a country bumpkin preacher from Pennsylvania with no street smarts to minister powerfully to the lost and desperate gangs of NYC. He relied upon God’s power. I needed to hear that message.

Years later when a diagnosis of incurable cancer led me to NYC, I listened to Pastor David’s sermons online and visited Times Square Church where he was the main pastor. Once again God used this man and his flock to minister to me in my time of need. I was still in a wheelchair and barely able to sit for much time at all but somehow being in that theatre-turned-sanctuary with people from many tribes and nations helped me to believe in the impossible. Pastor David said something like this: “The Scriptures say that faith can move a mountain. Our mountains are not our problems. Our mountains are not illnesses, or addictions, or financial troubles, or difficult relationships. Our mountain is unbelief.” So we battled unbelief and God kept His promises.

As fate would have it, Hae Young and I just happened to be in the very state where David and his wife were traveling when their car collided into a tractor trailer. The accident claimed his life and nearly took hers. We were able to witness the reports on TV of this beloved man’s passing. Interestingly enough the entry in his blog written the morning of his death was about how there are no accidents in God. Ever a prophet, God even used his last day on earth to proclaim that which was about to come to pass. He wrote:

"To those going through the valley and shadow of death, hear this word: Weeping will last through some dark, awful nights—and in that darkness you will soon hear the Father whisper, “I am with you. I cannot tell you why right now, but one day it will all make sense. You will see it was all part of my plan. It was no accident. It was no failure on your part. Hold fast. Let me embrace you in your hour of pain. Beloved, God has never failed to act but in goodness and love. When all means fail—his love prevails. Hold fast to your faith. Stand fast in his Word. There is no other hope in this world."

The Lord gave me a gift from Brother David the night before he died. I was reading a book he had written with Nicky Cruz called The Last Warning. I was reading it in Spanish but there was no confusion as to what God was speaking to me through this prophet. In his classic, very straight forward way, he matter-of-factly stated that Christians really had no business spending time watching TV. Not a popular thing to say in this day and age and it cut me deeply. My kids and I had slowly slipped into that pattern of turning on the TV and watching…well, you know….stuff. Stuff as in having nothing to do with eternal matters. Stuff as in not making any difference in our lives. Stuff as in wasting time.

So we are back on track thanks to this gift of God’s conviction through Pastor David. We made a pact to begin our day again with prayer before the sun comes up which means going to bed earlier and keeping the black box silenced. There I said it, publically. Now you can keep us accountable if need be. But we are determined. We are on it. David made a decision to stop watching TV and instead devoted the two hours he spent before it praying for others and the world. That decision changed his life. It was in those wee hours that he read about gang members in Life Magazine and as he prayed God stirred his heart to action. The rest is history. The rest is Teen Challenge and World Challenge. The rest is thousands upon thousands of lives radically changed by Jesus.

Thank you, dear Jesus, for this amazing servant whose desire for Your Truth inspired so many even if it first caused offense. We will miss him but we are blessed to know that he is finally with You, His beloved King.

http://vimeo.com/23002650 (link to a special tribute to David Wilkerson)

Other People's Children

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would grow up to be the mother of "other people's children". Not even one of them is a biological child. They were all gifts. They were all born in my heart, not under it. The other day Hae Young and I were reflecting upon how much we enjoy our God given children and how very much their birth parent/s are missing because of extremely poor decisions. There is so much blessing in being their Moms. On most days there is much laughter and the joy of watching God do the impossible in their lives is just beyond price. But there are certainly challenges in bringing up children whose early years were filled with uncertainty, rejection, degradation, abuse and abandonment among other things. Issues like:

1. when something like chicken pox hits, you don't have any idea who will get it! Like last month when one little boy at school came down with the pox and we just kind of had to wait and see on a weekly basis who would spout the little pustules next.

2. they have scars, major ones, emotional and physical and I don't know how they got them, for the most part. Like my one son who has cigarette burns on his body and it is still too painful for him to tell me about their origin. I hate it that I don't know all of their stories and I hate it that they were so abused. Sometimes I just want to shake their parents and give them a piece of my mind instead of smiling at them on visiting day. But I don't because I know that they abused because they were abused. And they need love too. Sometimes I discover the scars of my children when I least expect it because, although the visible scars have healed, many of the underlying causes haven't, which is why there are....

3. frequent meltdowns. Like the time Helen burst into tears the first time she was served spaghetti at our home. The rest of my children all kind of looked at each other with eyebrows raised in wonder. We found out later that she had been served spaghetti everyday at the horrendous government home she had been in before coming to us. It seemed to her that she had come to the same old same old and her hope for a new life seemed dashed by a plate of spaghetti. It took her a month of Sundays to to finally be able to eat the Italian dish without associating it with her former life and to realize that it was not daily fare at our home.

4. they have more aches and pains than I can keep track of. I thank God that I am a nurse because it has become very important to discern between what is doctor worthy and what is just "needs some time with Mama".

5. it takes time for the children to believe that they are truly loved. They test at every turn to see if this divinely patched together family is the real deal. So here we are in all our glory.......on Mother's Day

Front row: Helen (12) Jency (7) Valerie (7) Middle row: Juan Carlos (15) Isabella (3) Betsy (getting up there)

Back row: Noe (19) Marlyn (she doesn't like me to say) Julio (13) Susana (10)

thanking Him for truly He sets the lonely in families and brings forth the prisoners with singing!