My heart burns for you...

Hello All,


In the midst of packing lists and doing laundry, preparations for my upcoming trip to Nicaragua, I thought I would share a bit of an update about the kinds of things that have been going on around here. April is upon us which seems so unbelievable especially since Raúl and I talked about going to Nicaragua for Semana Santa ever since November when Sara and Sally moved. As it turns out, he can’t go because of taking care of his business, but his mom, Mami Sonia, and I will head out to Bluefields on Monday. I am very excited. It is perfect timing because I can feel the bite of the travel bug yet again, and I’m ready for a change of scenery. I am also excited to add another country to the list of those I’ve traveled to. I have no idea when I’ll be returning to Honduras as the decision is really up to Mami Sonia, but we’ll be staying with Mami Sara and will hopefully have the opportunity to help her with her ministry there.


Meanwhile, this month has been busy with teams, keeping up with my Danish volunteer “children,” and still visiting Raúl on a free day. Before the Danish volunteers came, I was talking to Mateo, a missionary who recently came to work with our ministry, and we were discussing the idea of discipleship. He pointed out that while Jesus preached to the multitude, His real discipleship took place with 12 men and even more in depth with three—Peter, James, and John. Mateo encouraged me to pray for my three, and my 12, and assured me that God would also provide “the multitude” at the right time. I completely agree with Mateo that often we can get so caught up in numbers that it becomes an issue of quantity versus quality where fruit is very sparse. I also fully believe that ministry essentially is all about relationship—relationship with God, relationships with other believers, and relationships with unbelievers. Thus, I began to pray that God would show me who the three people were that He would have me pour into and serve closely. Days later, the Danish volunteers came. While I had known they were coming, I didn’t know much about them, and I hadn’t been expecting to be so involved with them and what they were doing and experiencing here. Within hours of their arrival, it was undeniable to me that here were two of my three. As I continued to pray for my third, it became obvious that my third had been present all along—Raúl. He and I have been inseparable since I moved here, and even though I don’t feel like it’s been too much of a conscious effort for either of us, we have both been there for the other just in companionship, in service, and in encouragement. It is also through Raúl that I have found my 12 (even though there are fewer than 12) in the boys who Raúl so easily takes under his wing—Chespiro, Cristian, and Orlin. In the months since I’ve lived in the apartment, I have either been going to them at the business or the Eagle’s Nest or Raúl has been bringing them to me. The boys are all around 18 and obviously younger than Raúl and me, so together, we feed them, advise them, pick on them, and hopefully serve as good examples for them. Meanwhile, it is through the Danes that I have found my “multitude.”


One of the places that the Danes go as volunteers with the ministry is a center called 21 de Octubre, a government-run center for at-risk boys around ages 13-17. The boys who are there are sometimes sent there by the government due to stealing, drug trafficking, etc. or they are brought there by their parents for being uncontrollable, drug rehabilitation, etc. I don’t know why—perhaps because my brother and I have always been very close or perhaps because I spent so much time just hanging out and helping my dad when I was younger—but it has always been much easier for me to connect with guys than with girls. It’s not that I don’t care for or want to work with young girls; it is simply that God has given me an inexplicable ability to quickly gain the trust of boys. I know it is partially because I’m a girl, but I also know that God has given me wisdom over the years to know where I have to draw boundaries, when I have to demand respect, and how to be an example of a godly, compassionate, yet stern (when need be) woman. For this reason, from the very first time that I went to 21 de Octubre, primarily just because I was sent by Alvin to translate for the Danes, I lost my heart to these young boys. Since then, I have returned with the Danes once or twice a week—enough to build a relationship with many of the boys there. Words cannot express neither my compassion for these precious children nor how my heart breaks for these boys. They are so starved for love. The younger ones flock to me for hugs or to play while the older ones come around for a listening ear. It amazes me how even the most arrogant, the most hardened, and the least serious come just to have someone hear their stories, and let me assure you, their stories would astound you.


Words cannot express how much I value everything I read, watched, and eagerly consumed about gang life, illegal immigration, street children, and psychology of abused adolescents before moving. I have learned so much from Alvin in the years that I’ve been here about the habits of the gangs, the difficulties of incarcerated youth, and the best way to communicate with them. Alvin has taught all of his workers through the years that when you are listening to young people share their often horrid stories, you have to guard your behavior and your body language closely. If a young person is telling you his story of how he’s killed someone and you flinch or bat an eye, you will send the message that what that person has done is unforgiveable and too horrible for Jesus to redeem. Even though I’ve never been trained directly to work with these kinds of young people, I’ve picked up on the little lessons Alvin has mentioned or shared with others, and they have served me well in this experience. Plus, having been immersed in the culture here over the years, I have picked up on Honduran mannerisms, tones of voice, and street words which have also made it much easier to connect with the boys. In short, God has prepared me well, and even though it breaks my heart, every time I go to 21 de Octubre, I feel like I was made for that kind of work.


There are two older boys in particular who are very clearly leaders within the center and who carry themselves with a kind of bossy confidence that sends the signal that they’ve grown up in an environment where they’ve learned to charm others and to protect themselves. I wouldn’t have expected either of them to ever share their stories with me, but after some consistency in my visits and some time just spent picking on them and making them very aware of my boundaries and the kind of person I am in terms of my standards and expectations for myself and others, they both eventually sought me out to tell me their stories. Both of their fathers are drug traffickers, which is not surprising in terms of how they carry themselves—it’s evident that they are accustomed to what it means to be powerful. Both of the boys are 17 and only two months away from turning 18 which means that much of their decisions and directions in the next two months will decide the fate of their entire lives because once they turn 18, the likelihood that they’ll be sent to Renaciendo, the boys’ juvenile delinquent center, becomes much lower. Thus, if they fall back into the same lifestyle that brought them to 21 de Octubre, they will instead end up in prison, and the childish maneuvering and manipulation of the system (which they are all too good at) is over.


One of the boys came from a home where his father was a drug trafficker, and his mother was an alcoholic who regularly broke bottles over her son’s head. Both of his parents are still living although they are no longer together. It was his mother’s anger and alcoholism that drove this kid to the streets. As he told me about the hatred he has for his mom, his eyes filled with tears, which surprised me. He told me that he wasn’t in a gang although I rather doubt the validity of that claim, and he certainly was involved in drug trafficking due to the influence of his father. He is very very intelligent and eager to help others at the center. He is a rough kid who likes to show others who is boss, but he also tends to take the younger, more defenseless ones under his wing. This is his ninth time in the center. He has also spent two years in Renaciendo in the past. He is set to leave within two weeks. Words cannot express how my heart breaks for this child who has no real sense of home or family, who has learned to be a loner and to trust no one. It’s a compassion that exists not because of how difficult his story is but simply because I just feel the love of Jesus radiating in my heart for this child every time I’m around him. The Danes and I both were contemplating whether or not it would be possible to talk to Alvin about getting this kid into the Eagle’s Nest since it seemed for a while that he’d have nowhere to go. But, after (nearly) seven months of living here, I am very cautious about whom I stick my neck out for, and very slow to jump into a frenzy of action even if it would be based on good intentions. And, in this case, I think I was right. This past time that I went to the center, I was talking to this kid again who mentioned that he would soon be leaving to live with his dad. I pointed out that if he lives with his dad, the chances of his falling back into the same street lifestyle would increase, and without making any comments or promises, I asked if he’d be willing to live in a non-government-run home. He said no. After more discussion and joking on his part, it became clear what his real desire is—to live with his dad to once again sell drugs. He claims that he’d only sell until he had enough money to build a house so that he could live on his own. But, I know that the lifestyle of selling drugs and earning lots of money so easily (no matter what the risk and danger) is very addicting. Once you’ve had all that money and power at your fingertips, it is very difficult (although not impossible) to leave that lifestyle to work in a “normal” job and earning a “normal” paycheck. It’s a work that generally only God can do. Thus, the most I could really do in the moment was let this precious child know that I so desired better for him and that I believe that God has better for him as well. But, I also know that God has put this child in my path that I might intercede for him. There are some people who are hunting for his father and want to kill him. There are all kinds of dangers on the road that this young man is choosing, and if God does not intervene, he is headed for prison or for death.

The other young man is a gang member who carries a spirit of death all over him. Violence is his means of communication, self-confidence, and life in general. I was so surprised when he sought me out this past time to talk. He told me, “Sarah, you’ve looked sad all day. What’s going on?” When I didn’t answer, he started sharing his own stories as I asked questions. He’s from the coastal area. His father is also a gang member and drug trafficker who now doesn't want anything to do with him. He has very seriously thought of killing his father in the past. His mother was murdered by the rival gang. He joined the gang when he was 11 years old. He told me casually of how much money he’s robbed, how many people he’s killed, and how he and some other gang members blew up a bus in San Pedro Sula. He spent six years in the boys’ juvenile delinquent center for murder before he ended up at 21 de Octubre, although it looks as if he might end up in Renaciendo again. He told me that he was thinking about escaping from the center—which isn’t that hard to do, and really, is something that any of these boys (especially those who are accustomed to the center and the system) can do any time they want. He used to be very addicted to cocaine, and he has numerous scars from all of the beatings, knife fights, and shots he’s taken. He has a daughter who will be turning one year old this week, and he has no idea where she is. When I suggested that if he leaves, he could be murdered on the streets, he was quick to assure me that regardless of where he goes, death is a certainty. If he escapes, he’ll likely die on the streets. If they capture him, he’ll end up in Renaciendo again which they may send him there from 21 de Octubre anyway. If he manages to stay alive on the streets for two more months, once he turns 18, if he’s captured, he’ll be sent to adult prison where they’ll murder him.


It is possible to leave a gang to become a Christian. You have to leave the same way that you enter—by enduring so many seconds (depending on the gang) of a beating from your fellow gang members. If you survive, you’re free to be a Christian, but you’ll be watched for a period of time. If the gang sees that you aren’t living a Christian life, aren’t always carrying your Bible, aren’t going to church, etc., they’ll kill you. They take the choice to become a Christian very seriously. And, even if you’re off the hook with your own gang, you’re always at risk when it comes to rival gangs. When I asked what led this young man to join the gang, he said with no hesitation, “El Diablo” or “the devil.” While he was hesitant to indicate that he regrets joining, he did tell me that he has thought about leaving to become a Christian. I shared a bit about the Christians that I know from our own church who have left the gangs and how much I respect them. We, especially in the United States, have absolutely no idea what the word persecution even means. For these former gang members, the choice to become a Christian was and continues to be a choice of life or death. I have never met any other group of people who so has the necessity to live with an eternal mindset. They could be murdered at any time, yet they have reached a place where they trust that life isn’t about this world and that the only hope they have is in surrendering all and taking up the cross to follow Jesus.


In light of all of the stories I’m hearing from the boys at 21 de Octubre and all of the pain I see in their eyes that I am absorbing, I have been pondering the idea of violent love. I know that it seems like an odd, perhaps inappropriate, word to use in relation to love especially for those of us who have never known persecution, loss, or suffering like some of the rest of the Christians in the world. But, the longer I live in Honduras, the more I can clearly see that there is no hope without violent love, and really, I can think of no better phrase to describe Jesus’ sacrifice. The orphan spirits that these boys carry cannot be healed by a Band-Aid of education, devotions, or programs. Those are only short-term remedies to wounds that run deep into the core of who they are. If I have learned nothing else during my time here, it is that everything is spiritual. We can offer street kids all of the opportunities in the world, and they may walk the straight and narrow for a while, taking advantage of education, food, and the like, but if their orphan spirits have not been healed by the Holy Spirit and if they do not believe that they are worth more than everything they’ve ever experienced, they are not going to change and are going to return to the same lifestyle they had before. It is both heartbreaking and beautiful when you finally realize how helpless you are to make a difference in the world in and of yourself. It all has to be the work of the Holy Spirit and a work of violent love—a love that never gives up, that keeps forgiving, that is willing to suffer all, and that is willing to wait for, intercede for, and believe for the movement of the Holy Spirit in the life of another.


For the past year, when I hear stories of great pain and suffering in the lives of others, almost automatically the lyrics to a song by Jesus Culture called “Obsession” comes to mind. It is only one simple line, but it sums up my entire heart’s cry to God. And my heart burns for you. I listen to the stories of these boys, and my heart burns for them. It burns in such a way that I am beginning to realize that if my heart doesn’t burn for them, if I don’t intercede for them, if I don’t recognize that God is asking me to stop for this one person, then it will be them—they will be the ones who burn in hell without the hope of a Savior. I realize that all of this is very strong to say to an audience of primarily North Americans, but each day, God is asking me to come deeper with Him that He might be able to show me the suffering of the dying man, that my heart might burn for another, and that He might give me His violent love willing to suffer all that someone else might know Jesus. The Kingdom of God is just that real. It’s just as real as the murders these boys have committed. It’s just as real as the bullets these boys have taken. It’s just as real as the impending death that lingers over every breath that they take. And it’s more real than all of the hateful experiences they’ve ever had. And, if I, someone who claims to be a Christian (a follower of Jesus), does not take hold of this violent love and is not willing to suffer for the lost, who will? I once read a book by Elisabeth Elliot that talked of a missionary who “worked as if everything depended on God and prayed as if it all depended on her.” That is my desire. The spiritual desolation in 21 de Octubre often leaves me physically exhausted, and there are times when I’m interceding for my multitude when I feel like Moses in Exodus 17 who needs an Aaron and a Hur to lift up his arms that the Israelites would win the battle. If any of this is resonating in your spirit, in your heart, in the calling God has on your life, I would ask that you would take some time to be Aaron and to be Hur for me and for these precious children. While my cousin and I were road tripping, a pastor in Texas prophesied over me that my prayers would snatch children from the gates of hell, and with each passing day of looking into the eyes of these precious boys who I love so much, I am taking hold of that word. God is calling me to go deeper with Him. I am scared because I feel inadequate, but at the same time, my heart burns for you, for them, for Him.


One of the greatest struggles in living here especially in the past couple of months has been enduring betrayals of trust. I once read a study that said that in a national poll, 80% of Hondurans indicated that they truly feel that there is no one they can trust. I can completely understand why. Everywhere I turn in this country, there are broken marriages due to infidelity. There are broken families due to gang involvement, alcoholism, drugs, and spouse infidelity. There are broken friendships due to a selfish attitude of preserving oneself or receiving “what’s in it for me.” In the time that I’ve been here, I’ve struggled with who I can trust. Other than Alvin and Nelly who I obviously trust and rely on, who can I depend on to be sincere with me? Who can I believe? Who isn’t going to use me for selfish gain? With whom can I let my guard down? The truth is that those people are few and far between, and this fact is exhausting. Recently, we have had a thief in our midst—someone has been stealing things from my apartment (and only could have entered from the front door) and from the Eagle’s Nest where Raúl and the Danes live. This isn’t my first experience with being robbed, but it is an experience that does make one weary. As I got off of the phone with Alvin after letting him know what was missing, I just sat down in my apartment with a heavy heart. Without going into too much detail, the past couple of months have been quite eye-opening and heart-testing. The lack of security or lack of people you can depend on is quite exhausting, but God is so faithful. Within five minutes of getting off of the phone with Alvin (having not told anyone else anything—news travels fast around here), I heard the roar of Raúl’s motor bike in the driveway. He came bounding in through my door saying, “Are you okay? What did they take from you?” I just started laughing as I tried to assure him that it’s just stuff that has no eternal value. Once he was assured that I was okay, he turned to go back to his business. I said, “Wait, did you come here just for that?” “Well, Sarah, all I heard was that you were robbed, so I thought someone pointed a gun or knife at you, and I needed to know you were okay.” Later, Hermana Brenda, who was the person who mentioned to him that I had been robbed, told me that she didn’t even get to finish telling him what she heard because he cut the call so quick to jump on the bike, leave his business, and make sure I was okay. After he left, I couldn’t stop laughing because I was so blessed. Even in the midst of betrayal, uncertainty, invaded privacy, and broken trust, God is so faithful. He has truly sent me someone (Raúl) who is sincere with me, who I can believe, who I can trust, who has served me for the past seven months without ever asking for anything in return. I am so grateful.


I am also grateful for all of the difficulties, trying situations, disappointments, and heartbreaks because in the suffering and the waiting, God has been teaching me how to love. He has been hardening me to difficulties (while softening my heart), and he has been developing the beginnings of that violent love. I so long for His violent love that is the only thing that can give me the strength to believe for even those people who seem the most hopeless.


All my love,

Sarah

Ya viene la primavera...

Hello All,
A month has already passed since my last update, and I have once again celebrated another anniversary—this time six months here in my beloved Honduras! My love affair with this place and these precious people is one that continues no matter how much time passes. Recently, I’ve been reminded of the little wonders that first drew me into this life in the first place. Simple luxuries like sandy mud puddles, rolling white clouds even at night, flour tortillas, fresh mango, sun-dried laundry, lazy afternoon conversations over coffee, worship in Spanish, and the warmth of Jesus’ smile beaming over the lives of orphans still warm my heart. My thankfulness at being here renews every day—even on the difficult days.

Today is a rainy day, and as I live at the top of a mountain, when I look out the window, it’s as if I’m sitting in the midst of a cloud as I write this. The tingling of the rain on the tin roof is keeping me company, and I can smell Nicaraguan run-down (a kind of soup) in the kitchen. I never grow weary of the sound of some of the strongest women I know speaking in Spanish. I have learned so much from Nelly and Sara and so many others who pass through this house. So many have adopted me, and I feel so privileged to have so many spiritual mothers. I don’t know that they’ll ever understand how much I draw from their strength and their pushing me to be strong as well.

Just as anticipated, life has gone from quite quiet and lonely to bustling and teeming with people. I love that even though there really isn’t too much of a change of seasons here that God still brings me through spiritual winters to gloriously green spring times of growth. I feel as if God has indeed lifted me up and has taken my hand to guide me forward. I still don’t have a plan or a concrete sense of direction. I still have no idea what I’ll be doing a year from now or even a month from now. But, what is making all the difference in the world is that I can feel the Father’s hand in mine. I may not know where we’re going, but I feel His presence so close, and if He’s the One leading, I am more than willing to follow. Lately, He has allowed me the chance to catch my breath, to emerge from a fog that was only allowing me to see my life from a very limited perspective, and to reflect upon how far I’ve come.

As I read back over blog entries from my half a year of living here, I can see with great clarity that God has been so consistent and so true to every word He’s spoken through every situation, every person, and every Scripture. I love that while we humans can be a roller coaster of changing emotions and desires, God truly never changes. He writes stories that have no holes in the plot and that are a continuous, branching thread. Yesterday, I was sitting in the Eagle’s Nest and just began to remember everything that has happened in such a short span of time. Even though I don’t live there anymore, that house still feels like home, and it baffles me to know that I am a much stronger person now than I was even just six months ago. God has indeed been teaching me little by little. Last year, I ran a 5k race—my second one for the year—during a time when I was student teaching and hadn’t been running at all. The course had numerous hills and wasn’t just confined to roads, and my lack of running led to an abysmal time compared to the one I’d run only months earlier while I’d been training. I was rather discouraged, but even as I was running at a snail’s pace, I heard God clearly say, “Sometimes, your walk with Me is going to be slow. That’s okay. Just keep going.” I have come back to that simple moment so many times in the past couple of months because it is always an ongoing journey that, at times, can be quite slow. But, God is always at work.


During all of this time, Jesus has been dancing with me and holding me just as He said He would, and even though I didn’t always recognize it as such, with each new challenge, just as it talks about in Ezekiel 47, God has been inviting me to come deeper and to live in the Spirit rather than in the flesh. Even in the moments where I doubted, He was and continues to work in ways that I can’t see. Oftentimes, we read a Scripture like Isaiah 43:19: “Behold, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs forth; do you not perceive and know it and will you not give heed to it? I will even make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert,” and we think that if we do not see this new thing brewing before our eyes that God is lying. Yet, I can honestly say that this has been a wilderness time for me, but God has been doing a new thing behind the scenes and in the chambers of my own heart. He has made so many ways in the wilderness and is teaching me to heed to the new thing He is doing (even when I don’t know what it is). In the process, He has hardened me to difficulties, has developed my patience and endurance (just as He said He would), and continues to work it all for His good and His glory. This morning, while running, I could feel the purpose of the Father in every instant that my feet hit the pavement. It is just as that word that Heidi Baker gave in that podcast: I am coming into my destiny as a laid-down lover of God and in missions and in ministry. And, the way that God is bringing me into that destiny is through suffering so that, like Jesus, I may learn an active, special obedience to the Father and a sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. I am learning to once again rest in His love and to embrace the uncertainty life has to offer. While times of limbo can be very stretching, they are so much more bearable when we take hold of the truth that God is so in love with us. How could we distrust One who loves us so much, so recklessly, so relentlessly? Thus, I find myself crying out to God every morning with a heart longing to be fully possessed by the Holy Spirit and fully yielded to the calling God has upon my life.

Alvin gives the following example of the baptism of the Holy Spirit:

When we become Christians, we are like a pitcher full of water. We have accepted God’s love and salvation, so there is a measure of God’s spirit inside of us. But who is controlling the Spirit? What is controlling the water of the pitcher? When we are baptized in the Holy Spirit, it’s as if we are that same pitcher full of water but thrown into the middle of the ocean. When that is the case, what then is controlling the pitcher? Who, then, is controlling us? Are we controlling the Holy Spirit within us, or is the Holy Spirit controlling us? I so long and pray often that it would be the Holy Spirit controlling me, a loving daughter and willing vessel, rather than the other way around.

Meanwhile, I also want to give you an update on the various people who are swarming the house and who have become fixtures in my life here:
In mid-February, we had two Danish volunteers, Michael and Mathias, come to work with Manos Extendidas. They plan to be here until July or August, and I am so unbelievably grateful they are here. It is so nice to have fresh faces and to have people to keep me company. They also have joined my little group of boys that I affectionately call my “lost boys.” Ever since I was little, I have always managed to find a group of guys my age or younger who become like my adopted brothers, who I love to take care of, and who oddly end up becoming my most constant friends. My dad jokingly calls me Wendy (from Peter Pan) since I have so many “lost boys,” and while it’s silly, it’s also true because I find a following of lost boys so naturally everywhere I go. I rarely seek them out. They just seem to come to me. Thus, Michael and Mathias have joined the ranks of Raúl and the boys who hang with Raúl (Chespiro, Cristian, and Orlin). Michael has a beautifully humble heart and resonates a gentle spirit as he’s being silly with children or just listening to me ramble, and Mathias is a fearless adventurer who also scoops up children to play and carries a certain boyish sweetness that makes me playfully think of him as my little child. I am so excited to have them both here as I fully believe that God has a special blessing for them both (and because they are already great blessings to me).

Last month, we also had a team of three guys (including Mike Diehl, Tía Sally’s son) who were very easy to get along with and were fun to joke with, so it was nice to have them around. They came primarily to hang out with Alvin which was relaxing for all of us, I believe, because it was a nice change from always having teams that have to be busy or have to have a plan. Every group is different though. We also have a team right now that is sleeping and eating here but is working primarily with another ministry called Escuelas de Esperanza which helps in some impoverished schools. For anyone who knows Victor from our church, this is also the organization he has started working for.

Sara has also been in for a visit. She came around the same time as the team of three guys, and it has been so wonderful to have her here. I love that she is one of those people where it never matters how long we’ve been apart—we just pick right back up where we left off. She has been such an encouragement to me while she’s been here. I will greatly miss her when she leaves, but I do still hope to go to Nicaragua to visit for Semana Santa.

Roy’s family is still a constant presence and blessing in my life. I still see Raúl almost every day either because he comes up to eat, I visit the business, or because I’m at the Eagle’s Nest (where the Danes and Raúl live) to visit all my boys. Nahum recently had a motor bike accident that totaled his recently purchased bike and left him with some stitches and a broken leg. He is doing all right although he had Raúl and I rather scared when we first went to the hospital after the accident. Now, he’s just recuperating at home and doing his best not to be bored (which is difficult for him). Raúl, meanwhile, is still running the business although he is missing having Nahum around to help relieve some of the pressure of the work. Roy has been filling in at Nahum’s other job as an ice cream man (his cousin owns a business selling ice cream where Nahum had been working half-time), and his house is coming along quite nicely. The newest goal for the house is to lay the ceramic tile for the floor. Richard is still recovering from his broken leg, so poor Mami Sonia has her two oldest sons stuck at home. Walter is doing well, and I see him from time to time when I visit Tatumbla. Waldina is wanting to continue studying although she is also looking for teaching jobs. We recently celebrated Mami Sonia’s birthday, and as I sat in the living room surrounded by the entire family, I was once again met with a wave of gratitude and prayers that God would bless this precious family abundantly for how they have adopted and included me.

The little neighbor boys (Victor, Noland, and the twins) have all started school now, but they still visit often. Please keep Victor and Noland in your prayers especially as they live in a home with the “papa of the twins” who does not treat them with love as a father treats their sons. Please pray that God would show them a father’s love.

I’ll also give you the latest update on all of the girls from the Eagle’s Nest:

Blanca: She called Alvin recently, and she is living in a small village in the south of the country with her boyfriend—the same boyfriend she was sneaking around with when she lived in this neighborhood.

Claudia: We don’t know too much concrete information about Claudia. The only information we really have came from a phone call Claudia’s grandmother made to Raúl saying that Claudia was living with a man who beats her.

Mayra: Again, we don’t know much. In the same phone call, Claudia’s grandmother told Raúl that Chiquita has been running around in the streets. I don’t really know if that means that she’s still living with Claudia’s grandmother part of the time or not.

Quendy: Quendy is still living with her boyfriend and his family in our neighborhood. She visits often though, and she also goes to church from time to time. At the very least, her willingness to visit is evidence to me that she knows that despite of her life choices, we still love her. She turned 18 two days ago.

Kimberli: Kimberli is now living with her sister, Bessy, and her brother-in-law, Carlitos. We are still trying to get her into a school.

Lastly, my latest update is that I am hoping to visit the US for the month of June. I have Alvin’s permission to go, especially since he’ll be in Denmark with Nelly for part of that time, and I am hoping to buy my plane ticket within the next couple of days. I had been praying for a while about when I would be released to visit the US, and I didn’t receive an answer from God for quite a while. But, in light of how He is leading me and in light of ways that I’ve been obedient recently, I feel released to go at this time. I won’t lie—I’m kind of scared to go back. I miss my family and friends greatly, but I don’t miss the US. I love my life here, and my life here has become my reality rather than vice versa when I was living here during the summers and having to return to school for the majority of the year. Thus, there is a part of me that wonders what I’m going to miss while I’m gone since life will inevitably go on. But, at the same time, the thought of going home to see the people I love and miss fills me with a great excitement, and I think perhaps it could be a well-needed break and change of scenery for a renewal of perspective. Meanwhile, I think my boys (and perhaps others) are a bit worried that I won’t come back. The other day, I was telling Raúl that I was planning on going to the US for the month of June, and the conversation went as such:

“What’s that about? I thought you said you didn’t have plans to go back right now.”

“Well, I didn’t, but plane tickets have gotten cheaper, and I think it would be a good time to go in June.”

“But, why are you going?”

“I want to visit my family. This is the longest time I’ve spent away from them.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s true. But, why are you going for so long?”

“If I’m going to buy a plane ticket, I want to get the most out of my time there, especially if I don’t know when I’m going to be able to visit again.”

“Yeah, I guess so…but you’re coming back, right? When are you coming back?”

“I’ll be back at the end of June.”

“Hmmmm….okay…”


I have known for a long time that it would take a while for my Honduran friends to really trust that I am here long-term. Gaining residency has helped, but I also have known that it likely wouldn’t be until after I returned after my first visit back to the US that they would recognize that I’m committed to being here. So many gringos have said one thing and have left much sooner than they said they intended. Above all, though, I am here for as long as God directs, and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that this is where I am called to be. So, yes, I absolutely will return. I love this place. I love these people. I love what God is doing even when I may not be able to see it. Spring time is budding below the surface of a crusty soil; we just have to be willing to wait in Him.
All my love,

Sarah