RIDE OUT WITH ME

I was in a dark mood this past weekend.   As I described in Friday’s blog, I was feeling sad and discouraged, and although the Lord spoke to me about hope during Elsa and Sallie’s program, I could not entirely shake the blues.    Sunday morning before church I ranted and raved at my girls about the condition of our house.   It wasn’t completely undeserved, but not exactly prayerful preparation for church, either!   By the time we got home from church, my head hurt and I just wanted to make like an ostrich and find some sand to stick it into.  

Lord of the Rings is a “spiritual warfare story” for me.   I’ve watched the movies numerous times, and read the books through a couple of times as well.   It’s one of those tales which never fails to speak to my heart and spirit, sometimes through one character or event, and sometimes through another.   I selected the middle part, The Two Towers, and asked God to help me back into the Light.

This time the battle scene at Helm’s Deep was the part which the Lord used.    King Theoden had taken his people to this “impenetrable” fortress, despite counsel to engage the enemy in open warfare.  The fortress was penetrated, and as the King and the not-yet-king, Aragorn, waited for the enemy’s final devastating onslaught, Aragorn said, “Ride out with me.”   “To death and glory?” asks Theoden.  “For Rohan,” declares Aragorn.   i.e.,  Ride out with me into the teeth of the enemy for the sake of the people, so that they will have hope, and so that the enemy will see that we have not given up.   Ride out with me, taking the offensive, instead of waiting here for our inevitable doom.   Ride out with me, with courageous joy, seeking the victory which appears impossible.  

I sensed the Lord saying, “Ride out with Me!   Stop sitting around worrying, waiting for more bad news.  Ride out with Me into the teeth of the Enemy for the sake of My people!”

But how?   Where?   I asked.    This morning I received the answer:   Jasmine and Linda.    Jasmine was going to be the first young girl in our new safehouse.   She was doing great in detox when I left for the States, but a few weeks later she ran back to the streets.   Linda was a baby whom we cared for in our own home.   As the time grew near to go to the States, we took her to the children’s home.   Social Services came and picked her up, claiming that we had not cared for her properly.      In both cases, I had felt angry, then sad, and then had allowed myself the “we can’t help everybody” point of resignation.    But this morning the Holy Spirit said, “Ride out with Me into enemy territory.   Let’s  get Jasmine.”      As I walked around the smelly, trashy, sleazy red light district Jasmine was known to frequent, I asked the Lord to lead me to her.  I saw two young women who looked as if they might know her.   It is painful to ask prostitutes and drug addicts the whereabouts of someone you love, but when I mentioned Jasmine’s name, one of the girls jumped up excitedly:  “You’re the gringa!  Jasmine’s godmother!   She told us about you!  Can you give me money for coffee?   I’ll show you where she is!   A little something for coffee?”   She led me around a corner and towards a very dark opening.  “Jasmine!!  Jasmine!!  The gringa!   Can I have money for coffee?   Jasmine!!  Hurry!   Just a few lemps for coffee?”   Jasmine came flying out of the opening, which looked very much like the mouth of the Dark One, and grabbed me around the waist.    She smelled like liquor and many days without soap.    I gave the other young woman “a few lemps for coffee,” grabbed Jasmine around the shoulders and started walking.      We stopped a couple of blocks away to buy some clothes that fit and that covered her a little better, and then hopped a bus into a better part of the city where I had left my car.    Jasmine’s story will no doubt be continued in future blogs.

As for Linda,  I hope to get to Social Services tomorrow.   I’m going to tell them that I have felt moved by the Holy Spirit to give them an opportunity to apologize.   J    And maybe even give Linda back.    Would you, in your prayers, “ride out with Jesus and me?”

He Turns Our Mourning Into Dancing

What a sad afternoon yesterday!   We had Valerie Fowler's "despedida" (going away party).   She has been with us, living at the children's home, for nearly FIVE years!    The children gave her a wonderful send-off.   We love her so much.   I felt sort of desperately sad, but did not cry.   After the program, Olga who works with our CAP program and knows about every needy situation in Flor (hundreds or thousands), approached me to tell about a few.   She cried.  My heart fell further, but no tears.   I walked over to Evelyn to ask if we have the resources to help with some of the situations Olga described.   Evelyn explained our financial situation.   My heart was threatening to take up residence in my big toe at this point, but I still did not let the tears flow.

A couple of hours later I was seated with lots of other parents at Elsa and Sallie's school for a big annual program.   We are the newest family in the school, and I have been as scattered a mom as usual, so really have not understood this "annual conference" thing completely.   All of a sudden Sallie's name was announced to sing a SOLO in front of all of us!!   I had just gotten a new cell phone, and so was frantically trying to figure out how to take a photo.   Sallie was so courageous.   A few minutes later, she won a medal for second place in a track relay.    Then I started thinking, "Oh, no.  Elsa is going to feel badly that she didn't win anything."   Sure enough, here comes Elsa to sit in my lap and tell me she hadn't won anything.   "Don't worry," I said more hopefully than I felt, "The night isn't over yet."   A short time later, Elsa WON the science fair for first grade!!!   I just about fell out of my chair.

When did the tears finally come?   During Sallie's song.   I looked at that beautiful little girl wearing a butterfly headband, bravely holding the microphone and singing "Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord" in front of about 200 people.    Into my head came this thought:   "Olga could have been telling  me Sallie's sad story today.   She could have been that 3-yr-old little girl begging on the streets of Flor."   Many silent tears flowing down my face:  Yes, there is hope.   Each of our rescued and restored children breathes those words:   Yes, there is hope.   God is seeing that precious little girl and so many others.   By His grace, we will find a way.

Jesus turns our mourning into dancing.   He raises our hearts from our big toe into the heavenly places with Him.   Where there is no way, He makes one, and His ways are always breathtaking.    Thank you, Jesus, for being the hope of the children, and for reminding us that Your miracles are right in front of us, wanting to be embraced by faithful followers of the Lamb.

Notes to God

On Tuesday afternoon, I took Sallie and Elsa to a funeral with me.   Isabel, a dear sister from Cristo Redentor, participated in a church retreat on Sunday, and then had a massive heart attack on Monday.   She went Home "prayed up," and although we will miss her, there is no doubt in our minds that she is fully enjoying the neverending prayer and praise session in heaven!

So during the service, I noticed that Elsa had a little piece of paper carefully folded into a small square.   I indicated that I'd like to see what it was all about.   She leaned over and whispered, "No, Mom.  It's a note for God."  To which Sallie immediately added with authority, "Oh!  I know how you can get it to Him!"   So, if you want to know how to get your messages to God, just Facebook Sallie.   She's got the inside track.

I did get a look at the note to God later.  It said (in English!), "I love God.  I love God.  I love God."   I think He'll love that note.   I might send Him one myself, as I am falling in love all over again with Jesus.   I'm back in my adoptive country, enjoying my adopted children (all 70 or so!), and am present once again for Holy  Spirit action among us.   It's wonderful to be in the Presence of the Living God. 

Ken and Pat Holden's medical brigade is here and working hard.   We saw over 200 people yesterday in San Buenaventura.   I translated for Dr. Jamie Ravenel, whose mother-in-law (Helen Barkley) was a true spiritual giant at St. Philip's Church, and also a spiritual support for me personally.   She was so excited when I was sent out as a missionary!    No doubt she was smiling on Dr. Jamie yesterday as he doctored; now he is a missionary, too!

Please be sure to check out Amanda Scott's blogs.   They are so good!   Her blogs have PHOTOS!   I might learn how to do that one day.   You can find the link to her blog page on our webside:  http://www.lambinstitute.org/.   You will love the pictures of our new director, David Gradiz, leading a game at our "Woman's Day" celebration.    When you see the physical demands of the game, you will understand why I was the first person eliminated!

Much love to all of you in Jesus.   He is truly the Lover of Our Souls.   His abundant life is for TODAY.  May you enjoy His Presence continually.

Hugs, Suzy

"So, what do you do on a typical day?"

The question in the title of today's blog has been asked often during my trips to the States.   It is, perhaps, the hardest question of all to answer, mostly because I rarely have "a typical day."   Today, though, was fairly typical, so I thought I'd share it with those of you who have asked (or thought) this question.

I got up early, fixed coffee, spent a few minutes in my Bible and in conversation with Jesus, checked my emails, and then woke up Sallie and Elsa for school.    Sallie would not get up.   I finally gave up, got Elsa ready, and Mary, Elsa and I headed out the door:   Mary to university, Elsa to first grade, me to work.   On the way into the city, Mary shared with me that a little girl has been bullying Sallie at her new school.    It all started last Friday on Sallie's birthday.  I took cake and ice cream to her classroom for a little celebration, and as a special surprise for Sallie, I invited her birthmom, Margarita.   Until then, Sallie had been the new, popular second-grade girl.  After that, however, a little girl in her classroom declared that Sallie's mom was "poor, fat and stupid, and so Sallie must be, too," and began to encourage the other children to exclude her from their play and conversations.   So when I dropped Elsa off, I went inside the school and shared our dilemma with the school principal.  We are awaiting a response. 

From school, I went to buy dog food at the feed store, and then I drove up to our ministry office for a 9am meeting.   When I got there I signed a letter authorizing one of our ministry workers to receive a pick-up being donated to us by USAID (hurrah! -- if it runs), and a letter of recommendation for a couple in the process of adoption (hurrah! -- if it's approved).   The meeting had to do with a ministry worker whose job became obsolete in September, and who should have then been given her severance pay.   However, there was a pretty big disagreement about how much was owed, and both sides contracted attorneys.    I was not here when this happened, or it would not have happened because we never ever win labor disputes.  Ever.   However, our Honduran staff, eager to save us some money, and perhaps show me that a victory was possible, threw themselves into what always ends up being a nasty fight.   By the time I got back to Honduras, the fray had turned into a lawsuit.   At the meeting with the woman and her lawyer, I asked the woman's forgiveness, explained that our staff was trying to protect our resources, but had made a hasty decision in contracting an outside attorney (who turned out to be corrupt), and that I hoped she would accept our apologies and a check for the full amount of her severance pay.   She did, thanks be to God, and we parted reconciled.    I spent a few minutes with our legal guy, encouraging him to be careful when seeking outside help, that when it was necessary to do so, we should be as certain as possible that the person shares our Christian values.   He then asked my forgiveness.  "I messed up," he said.  "Sorry."   We hugged.   The entire encounter from start to finish lasted 45 minutes.

From there I went to Children's Court.   Lucy's birthmom had requested to see her three older children, and she had asked me to go along.   Because of the other meeting, I didn't promise, but since it was over quickly, I took off for the court.   Guess what -- it had changed location!   ugh.    I finally found it, and thankfully was able to find Maribel pretty quickly.  She was understandably anxious and tearful.   She had not seen the children in five years.    Only two of them were there; the uncle had placed the seven-yr-old girl in a children's home.   He was telling the social worker that he wanted to place the boy in the children's home as well.  

Since Maribel has been in prison, and has run with thieves and gangs, she does not have a lot of credibility at Children's Court.   However, for the past year, she has been trying to live a different kind of life.   She isn't doing drugs, and she is looking for honest ways to make a living.   She has placed her baby, Fernando, in our daycare in Flor.   She was very glad to see me, as she was there all alone trying to get permission to visit her children, but without anyone to speak for her.    I sat with her as we had an interview with the social worker, a very nice lady who spent a good bit of time encouraging Maribel to be hopeful and to continue to get her life on track.   Maribel is only 25 years old, but is understandably depressed and insecure.    After the interview, we left Children's Court and went somewhere to talk for another hour or so.   I wanted to give her some more encouragement.  

After that, I went to the grocery to get some food for our house, and then stopped at the bank to pay the light bill.   When I was about the third person in line, all of a sudden a well-dressed lady broke out of the line and stomped up to the window ahead of everybody else.   Nobody said anything, but the body language and facial expressions were priceless -- and loaded.   While "the rich lady" was at the window, an older woman came in, and she also went to the front of the line (senior citizens' privilege).   I quietly remarked to the lady in front of me, "One day we'll either be rich or old, and then we can go to the front of the line."   She looked at me and laughed and said, "Your Spanish is very good!"   

 After the bank (and a chocolate milkshake), I picked up Elsa.   We stopped on the way home to look for the things I forgot to get at the supermarket (old, forgetful people have to do these things!), and to get some poster paper for Elsa.   Only pink was available, to which Elsa emphatically said no (she does not like pink!).

We came home.   I am sitting at my computer writing this blog.   It is 5:00pm.   My typical day is not yet over, but this blog must have an early ending.

My thoughts are swirling around Maribel and her children.   Maribel can't stop beating herself up because of the damage she has done to her children by her behavior.   She said, "I told myself, 'The world has treated me badly, so I'm going to do all I can to hurt the world, but I didn't mean to hurt my own children.'"      This is a young woman who was given away as a baby, sexually abused from the age of eight by her own father, and then picked up by a father-figure pimp at age twelve.   By age fourteen, she'd already had her first baby.   And yet she only blames herself. 

Please pray for Maribel, and for all those who need to know that Jesus is for them.    When I dropped her off, I put my hand on her head and said, "I love you.   And Jesus loves you, too.  Keep hoping."   "Really?" she said.  "I don't know."

I leave you with the desperate uncertainty of the brokenhearted.

One of the national newspapers in Honduras is running an investigative series on the situation of this small country in relation to violence.    With the recent events in Tucson still in the news, as well as MLK's birthday this week, my mind was fixed on the topic already.   It appears that Honduras has two cities (San Pedro Sula #3 and Tegucigalpa #6) which were recently included in "The Top Ten Most Violent Cities in the World."   Today's headline in the series read:  "Honduras:  In the Corridor of Death."   The focus was on drug trade and human trafficking, and talked about how the flow of contraband through Honduras has been the cause of most of the violence.   I tell people that most Hondurans are by nature peace-loving, and I still maintain that perspective.   Organized crime, gangs, drug lords, human traffickers, kidnappers -- these people are not representative of the general population, and in fact have lost all conscience in their obsession with money.  

How do we as Christians respond to such overwhelming acts of violence?   It is a challenge to fight back fear.    It is nearly impossible not to feel extreme anger, a desire for revenge.   Apparently during the Christmas holidays, some people were robbed near our home in the country.   Robberies increase at Christmas, of course, and these folks were trying to get home with their Christmas bonuses.  Not long after Christmas, the two guys who had been identified as the thieves were found dead.    Most people around here believe that the police killed them.   This kind of "justice" doesn't happen so much in the States, but down here it's fairly common.   The prisons are overcrowded, and quite often someone (police or not) takes matters into his/her own hands.    While many people applaud these executions, I don't think that any of us would say that it is the way of Jesus.

We must be peacemakers:   We must pray for our enemies, bless those who curse and persecute us, turn the other cheek, take up our Cross and follow Jesus into suffering and death.   We must forgive.  

It appears that the world is in an increasing spiral of violence.   There are the usual wars, but terrorism and delinquency are without geographic boundaries now.    Violence is literally everywhere.    God's people must be everywhere, too, living and loving in peace.   As Elaine Heath says in her book, The Mystic Way of Evangelism, "Love is God's meaning."   It must be ours as well in the face of rampant violence.   Shalom.