If we only knew...

I know that it's rare for me to update so often, but I needed to share some raw thoughts.


For the past couple of months, I've had the story of Hosea replaying over and over in my heart. The story of Hosea starts like this, "Go, take to yourself an adulterous wife..." She is true to her original nature, and she runs away.



She said, I will go after my lovers, who give me my food and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink.' Therefore I will block her path with thornbushes; I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. She will chase after her lovers but not catch them. Then she will say, 'I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.' She has not acknowledged that I was the one who gave her the grain, the new wine and oil, who lavished on her the silver and gold--which they used for Baal.


I lost Joel on Monday. He made the decision to leave Teen Challenge and return to the streets. Because he is legally considered an adult, he made the choice as an adult. There was nothing more I could do. I still love him with all of my heart, and I believe that God isn't done with him yet.



Therefore I am going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Vally of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt. "In that day," declares the Lord, "you will call me 'my husband'; you will no longer call me 'my master.' . . . I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord.


This weekend, I had Marvin, Josuan, and Jesús (and Erick who stays with his mom) on leave all at the same time. From hour number one, I knew that if I made it through this weekend with all of my kids together as my responsibility that I should probably win some kind of single mother medal. My morning this morning started with God waking me up super early to pray. This is not unusual other than how He had me praying for my children--covering them with Jesus' blood, sending angels to surround them, and pleading for God's furious love to keep pursuing them. In the middle of my prayers, Josuan and Marvin arrived at my house at 6:30 AM from the room where they sleep where Raúl lives. Josuan burst into my house asking me if Jesús was here; he wasn't. At first, because my kids all like to freak me out, I thought they were joking. But, the truth was that Jesús left at 4 AM. He had packed his things the night before (not unusual since he had to return to Teen Challenge today), and without my boys knowing, he left. My heart sunk in a way that I cannot express--like I was about to lose part of myself. So, we grabbed my keys, hopped into my car, and started driving and looking for him. I won't lie--I didn't think we were going to find him. Josuan, my pillar of faith, was praying and declaring that we were going to find him. The night before, it was late when I took them home, but we ran into Pastora Mirna, a friend of Mami Nelly's and one of the few people who has been a support and constant encourager for me. She had never met Jesús, but God shows this woman a lot. She began to tell him all kinds of advice that was perfectly direct and spoke to his situation--without knowing anything about his past. Josuan and Marvin were exhausted, but I didn't cut her off because I felt that if God was speaking to her in this way that it was because my son needed it.



I will plant her for myself in the land; I will show my love to the one I called 'Not my loved one.' I will say to those called 'Not my people,' 'You are my people'; and they will say, 'You are my God.'


God adores my Jesús. We could've gone first to the room to make sure he wasn't there, but we didn't. Split second decision. It would've been lost time. We were going to go to the market where the bus stations are for Jesús' hometown since we knew that that was where he'd be headed. My baby doesn't know his birthday. He has no idea how old he is. His heart aches for a sense of identity. He longs to belong to a family. And, he convinces himself from time to time that he will find all of this back in his hometown where he was left for dead after a murder attempt that involved 10 bullets and seven stab wounds--the same hometown where these same attackers still are who will kill him if they see him alive. He has been gone and in various centers and juvenile delinquent facilities for the past two years from what I understand, and his family has never looked for him. Even when he lived in his hometown, he lived on the streets (without his family) until a guy took him into his home. But, Jesús builds it up in his mind that the perfect family he seeks are those blood-related. So, he bolted. There were two routes we could've taken to the market. The boys knew both routes, but we decided to pass up the first route because of possible traffic. Split second decision. We wouldn't have have seen him. He would've been gone. It would've been over if we would have taken the first route. Only minutes later, we found him. He was walking on the side of the road with an angry look on his face, his framed baptism certificate in his hand, carrying his duffle bag. I pulled over, let the boys get out to talk to him, and buried my head in my hands to cry and for a moment to find the strength and the words for this fifth escape attempt--although the first on my watch.



The Lord said to me, "Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adultress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes. So I bought her. . .


It was like trying to talk a suicidal person out of jumping off of a tall building. His life, his soul, our family all hung in the balance. He didn't want to hear anything. I tried. Josuan tried. The shadow (person who supervises the first couple of leaves) of Josuan tried. He didn't want to talk to anyone. I signed for him to take him out of 21, so I'm legally responsible for him. Thus, I gave him the same speech I gave Josuan: "I love you. I'm here fighting for you because you are important to me. But, if you don't want to be my son, I can't force you. But, tell me your plan because I'm not going to throw you out on the street. If you don't want to be my son, I respect your decision, but you have to go back to IHNFA. We'll take you into police custody because I'm not just going to throw you onto the streets. I don't want to do that, but it's your decision." He decided that's what we'd do, so Marvin called the police. The call didn't go through. He tried again. No luck. Josuan nudged Jesús with desperation, "Don't you see! Satan wants to kill you! He wants to steal your life. He wants to steal you from our mami. But don't you see how God is fighting for you? The call didn't go through because God doesn't want you to make this mistake." So, we got him into the car to go to the police station. On the way there, Josuan hugged Jesús around the neck and talked into his ear with tears streaming down his face, fighting for his brother's life, while I prayed in tongues, at a loss for what else I could do. By the time we arrived back in our neighborhood, Jesús had made the decision that he wanted to be my son and would return to Teen Challenge with his brothers.



Afterward the Israelites will return and seek the Lord their God and David their king. They will come trembling to the Lord and to his blessings in the last days.


A lot of people don't "get" what it is that I'm doing with my sons. To be honest with you, a lot of times, I don't "get" it either. All of this just started with stopping for the one. Stopping to love one broken person in my path. Then another. Then another. And so on. I had no plans of my own. Just obedience. Just supernatural love that only comes from Jesus. But, after taking my sons to Teen Challenge and Marvin to his family's house, I came home, got on my knees, and cried out to Jesus to shake free of the loss that nearly consumed me today, how Satan nearly robbed me of my beloved son. I have reached the absolute end of myself. All I can do is beg for mercy. But, do you see what God is doing here? Do you see how God is making us a family? Jesús stepped back from the ledge today because Josuan fought for him when I didn't have any more words. I fought for Josuan for months. He almost ran away from me three times (even with a broken leg) to return to a life of drugs and abuse. But, God rescued Josuan and gave him to me. Now, he gets it. He knows he's not an orphan. He knows he's loved. And now Josuan fights for Jesús. That's the secret--stop for the One who is the One and stop for the one in front of you. And that one will stop for another one and so on. This past Sunday, the pastor sent all of my children to me to pray for me together. It became one giant embrace of us all--including Josuan's sister. And, I cried and shook and felt an electric wave of God's presence and strength holding us together as a family when I am simply too weak to do so.



I get a lot of criticism for loving my children--showing my children I love them--as if I've given birth to them because supposedly they're only "spiritual children." Trust me, if I hold back, they will know, and I will lose them. And I love them as fiercely as if they carry my blood in their veins--how am I supposed to contain that? I can't be half of a mom. I get a lot of criticism because I've never been a natural mother, so supposedly, this means that I can't be a good adoptive mom. I get a lot of criticism because I'm a single mom. I never wanted to be a single mom. I fought with God over obeying Him and taking hold of this family as mine. But, I'm sure Mary, the mother of Jesus, didn't want to be pregnant out of wedlock, but if she wouldn't have let God be the Father of her firstborn child (instead of Joseph), I wouldn't have a Savior. We never know what will be born out of our obedience to God even when man says, "It can't be done. It shouldn't be done. It looks bad." So, I grab a hold of Isaiah 54, and I keep fighting.



If we only knew what we're fighting for, we'd never say no to Jesus again. Today, I saw in the eyes of my son what I fight for. I see his soul on the very brink, and I know that if I don't fight to show this young man the furious, unrelenting, constant love of Jesus, he will die never having known Him or His perfect love. Can I live with myself if that happens, knowing that I could have, should have, and was called to do more, to love more? Can I live knowing that I wasted my life on something that had no eternal value for the life of another? Can I live knowing that someone died without the love of Jesus filling heart and soul and life and thoughts because I was too afraid or too stubborn or too lazy to obey God? Can I live with myself knowing that I was the person called to love that murderer, thief, gang member, orphan, street kid, prostitute, or neighbor back to life? No, because my heart burns for them; it aches for them to know His love.



Do you know why they run away? They run away for the same reason that Jesús ran away today. They want to know if they're valuable enough to be pursued. They want to know if someone will run after them to rescue them from themselves. They do not know His love. They feel like orphans. They do not believe that they belong to anyone. They do not realize they're not alone. They do not see their own worth. They lack a sense of identity. That's why Jesus sends us out like Hosea to bring in His lost bride--over and over and over again until His love seeps into their souls and heals their orphan hearts. If Jesus keeps knocking on the door of our hearts, He calls us to keep to running after them, keep looking for that one lost lamb, and to keep burning with the fire of His love and a passion for His children.



His love looks like this:
Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.



I regret nothing. I've lost nothing. I'll keep fighting. I'll keep running after Jesús always. I'll keep loving. If you only knew what you're fighting for, if you only knew what was at stake, if you only knew that what you do for the least of these you do to Jesus, it would change your entire life, turn your world upside down, and keep you fighting too.

Seven.

Erick and I

Hello All,

I’ve started writing an update in my head numerous times in the past few weeks, but when it comes to the time and energy to actually start writing something, my son’s letters for the week usually win in the priority war. But, as I’m listening to Counting Crows’ “Big Yellow Taxi” on repeat and the rain pouring outside in the middle of our rainy season, I thought I’d take the time to be personal. As I imagine is the case for many people my age—mid-twenties—I feel like I’ve been in a bit of an identity mystery. In the past couple weeks, I’ve been really exhausted. Actually, I feel like if anyone would have asked me at any given point in time this year, I probably would’ve answered the same because it’s just been a super stretching year. It’s also been a really amazing, crazy year full of the fulfillment of a lot of God’s promises and witnessing so much of God’s faithfulness.


With that said, I feel like I’m back in college around the very end of a very long, very hard semester when I’ve worked myself—body, mind, spirit—to the point that the only thing left to hold onto is the fact that it’s almost over. At the end of every semester, I usually had to spend the first solid two to three days just sleeping in order to recover from a semester of pushing myself so much. My poor family was gracious enough to let me disappear to become a human being again. The trick with my life at the moment is that I never really know if it’s—it being the season of non-stop going, spiritually fighting, and standing in faith for God’s promises—almost over. I’d like to tell you that I rejoice every time I get a word from someone telling me that God is telling me to keep pushing or to keep holding on or that He would give me supernatural strength, but the truth is that a little part of me hangs it head knowing that this word means that I have to learn more perseverance, and there is no rest just yet. I never really know when I’m going to get a break, and for that reason, sometimes the exhaustion takes over and blinds all sense of hope.


This was the case this past Sunday. As many of you may already know, I recently adopted three more boys and sent them to Teen Challenge—if you want to know more about their stories or the stories of any of my boys, please click above on the tab that says, “My Family.” (I say adopted because I mean that with all of my heart, but let me be clear in refreshing your memories that I can’t legally adopt them.) So, now, I have seven in Teen Challenge. (Well, perhaps, I should say six because Erick has his mom, so I’m mainly a support system for her. John escaped nearly two months ago and is living with his mom.) I can’t go to 21 anymore unless I’m ready to adopt someone else because I have a reputation now, and the population of 30+ boys swarms me saying, “Please, take me! You’re going to help me, right? You’re going to send me to Teen Challenge, right? I want to be your son.” And, when I go to Teen Challenge, I have seven boys in need of socks, toothpaste, deodorant, etc. Seven boys in need of mami’s love and attention. Seven boys with seven different, difficult pasts and reputations. Seven boys with jealousy issues, identity crises, forgiveness problems, old enemies, drug addictions, discipline battles, and needs for unconditional love. Seven boys from different gangs, who have been together in the same juvenile delinquent centers, and who have different prejudices against each other from their histories together. Even when I’ve gotten scared, God has been so faithful financially that I am speechless. I never know how it’s all going to work out with my finances, and I’m amazed by all that I’m able to do with what comes in, but even with never knowing where the money is going to come from, I can trust that He always provides. With that said, my greatest struggle then is often feeling like there is never enough of me to go around. The three new ones don’t even have permission to have visits yet, and I’m already wondering how on earth I’m going to split my time among seven instead of among four.

My new son, Cristhian



My nephew, Joel, who is Naty and Martha's adopted son--our first to come directly off of the streets to Teen Challenge

Bladimir, Alvin's son, who I just sent to Teen Challenge last week

God is doing amazing things in my children, and I am so proud of them. Marvin just finished his year in Teen Challenge on August 30 and has been given the opportunity to start his own business. Erick is abandoning his rebellious ways and is once again a leader in his building. Jesús has recovered—mostly—from the wanting to escape and is on the road to being a leader in his building. Josuan’s changes are the most pronounced for me simply because I’ve been with him every step of the way from seeing him high and dirty on the streets to having a broken leg and a broken heart to learning to let me love him to being a little man of God. With no prompting from me (other than always maintaining that he needs to forgive his mom), he recently wrote his biological mother a letter asking for her forgiveness, and he forgave her himself. He called her a couple Sundays ago to say hello and told her he loved her for the first time in his entire life. When I met Josuan, he hated his mother, and this hatred contaminated our relationship with his assumptions that I would abandon him, stop loving him, or would replace him with a new child. It’s been a battle to say the least, but what God is doing in his heart is amazing. Watching him, now perfectly healthy, dancing with joy for God, praying for other people, and writing me letters about the passion he has for lost souls, keeps me going because it’s the fruit of perseverance and is a work that only God can do. He fasts for my health and finances, and he picks me up and encourages me when I feel like I have nothing else to hold onto. And, through Josuan, God is rescuing Stefany, his younger sister. She has recently started going with me every Sunday to Teen Challenge, has gotten very close to me in telling me much about her own life, and she wants to give her broken heart to Jesus because of the testimony of her big brother. Is there anything more beautiful? God is giving me a daughter through the fruit of loving my son. And it is seeing how God has used unconditional love through this broken vessel to change Josuan that gives me the faith to see Joel (my adopted nephew and our first young person to come directly off of the streets), Bladimir (Alvin’s son who worked with Raúl for a while before being put in 21 for stealing again), and Cristhian (who is by far my biggest problem child yet even though he’s the youngest) restored and held in the arms of Jesus.




Josuan talking to his mother on the phone



Marvin, who completed his year in Teen Challenge on August 30



With all of these good things, you would think that I’d be a steady faith machine just plowing through all obstacles like a pro. However, as previously mentioned, sometimes, the exhaustion and the lack of a relief in sight steals my hope, and I lose it. On Sunday, I’d been trying to contain myself and talk myself out of a big breakdown. Really, if it wasn’t for Josuan, who knows me all too well, wrapping his arms around me and telling me how much he loves me all day long, I would’ve lost it sooner. But, after a testy conversation with Marvin, I got in my car to leave and cried the whole way home. My usual insecurity is feeling like I’m not qualified to be their mami, like I’m too young, too inexperienced, and too idealistic. (It’s the perfectionist in me that ruins me.) But, over and over, God tells me, “I picked you to be their mami. That is sufficient.”


Due to a disagreement over girlfriend/dating issues, Marvin threw that insecurity in my face with full force, “Mami, you’ve never been through what we’ve been through, so you can’t understand us. You haven’t had the same experiences. You’ve never even had a boyfriend, so you don’t even understand what it’s like to like someone. There are just going to be some things that you can’t speak to me about because you just don’t get it.”


Now, I was a teenager once (uhm, yeah, about five years ago), so I know this ploy all too well. I know the feeling that parents just don’t understand, and I know how to use that justification as a young person because I used it (about seven years ago, I imagine). So, reading Marvin’s comments outside of the pressure of the moment makes me recognize that no one is a parent because they’ve got all the answers or have had all of the experiences. My grandmother wrote me a comforting email months ago reminding me that she and my mother never knew how to be parents before they had kids, so I had to give myself the grace to not have all of the answers. And, I can recognize that it’s not necessary for me to have had a ton of boyfriends, tried every drug, lived on the streets, etc. to be their mami. I am their mami simply because God called me and according to Colossians 1:12, He’s the One who qualifies me—not my experiences. (“…and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.”) But, in the moment, after so many other moments, I lost it. It was an accumulation of too many things at once. It was staying up late to finish Josuan’s weekly letter. It was the getting up at five to cook for 10 people. It was the four trips to the car to carry everything. It was the terrible traffic. It was Jesús greeting me with the all-too-familiar “I don’t want to be here anymore,” which later turned out to be a manipulative move simply because he’d lost his visit for cussing at his leaders. (Thankfully, Raúl had come with me to Teen Challenge after months of bugging him, and he took over giving Jesús advice because I was clearly done.) It was Cristhian’s leader pleading with me to tell him to behave (as if that’s going to magically solve all problems with my hyperactive, disobedient son). It was Joel sending someone yet again to ask me for money when he knows fully that if I can’t give to all seven, I’m not going to give to one. I provide for their needs; materialistically, extras aren’t always guaranteed. It was a series of embarrassing moments. It was the recognizing that I’m doing this all by myself (with help from Naty and Martha when they can) and have no promise of any long-term, personal, human help any time soon. And it was the exhaustion of body, mind, and soul that got the best of me.


Crying on the drive home in front of my carload, I internally told God, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be a single mom to so many children anymore. You got the wrong girl. I'm so young! I don't know what I'm doing! I don’t have to do any of what I’m doing. Am I wasting my time here? I feel like a failure. How long are You going to make me wait before sending me some help? I don’t want to be a single mom anymore. My kids need a dad. I need some help.” In the moment, even though in the bottom of my heart I knew that I would pull through this moment of doubt, I never wanted to go back to Teen Challenge, and if someone would’ve given me a plane ticket to go to the States that day, it would’ve been nearly impossible not to jump at the chance to escape. It was just tunnel vision of exhaustion.



Mama's boy...

When I got home, as is my usual habit, the first thing I did was read Josuan’s letter (while crying some more). Could you abandon someone who tells you things like this?
“Hello mami, how are you? . . . I just saw you, and I already miss you. . . . This letter that you wrote me this week made me so happy. Reading that you love me so much and so many beautiful things. You’re an important piece for my spiritual healing, and you’re part of my life. You’re my mami, and I love you so much. Thank you for giving me your love and affection. And believe me, I’m trying to make all of my bad things into good things. I’m praying and fasting for your finances. I know that God answers my petitions, and you just believe that God is going to do something big in my life and in yours too.”


I can’t abandon that. Out of all of my children, I’ve had the most time with Josuan. He knows me the best, and we’re the most alike personality-wise. And, I think God did that on purpose—giving me Josuan first—to keep me going with the rest. His prayers, his fasts, his hugs, his letters, and his faith keep me going when my own do not suffice anymore. So, I snapped out of it.




But, I’ve spent this entire week just resting. This life that I’m leading is so bizarre. I live my week out like a single college girl, not eating or eating random food like oatmeal on repeat because I hate cooking for just myself, being lonely in the evenings, and wondering what on earth I’m doing with my life. Then, on the weekends, I’m in full-blown mom mode, making sure that everyone has everything they need, cooking for my boys, driving to pick them up, having advice sessions about everything from washing their socks to not playing with girls’ emotions, and I’ve never had such a clear sense of purpose. But, apart from them, I feel like I have no life or sense of identity. I get that this is relatively normal for parents. My parents are on their last kid at home, and they’re still doing the non-stop soccer, band, homework rounds that they did with me and my brother. So, I get that it’s normal that my kids are all I talk about, think about, and work for. What hasn’t been normal is that I never had nine months of preparation or even nine months to get used to the idea of being a mom. I never had the infant bonding years. I never had the terrible twos. I never had the tooth losing years, the science fair years, or the middle school dance years. My motherhood went straight to adolescence but not even just any adolescence. My motherhood is all about picking up someone else’s pieces. My motherhood is all about winning their trust when they have no reason of experience to give it to me. My motherhood is all about believing that love is greater than the past hurt. My motherhood is all about heartbreak thinking about the many years when I didn’t know them, when they lived on the streets, ate from the garbage, and got high on every drug imaginable. My motherhood is physically only on the weekends right now but emotionally and spiritually is every moment of every day. My motherhood keeps me desperately running to Jesus, and the moment that I stop, it’s all over.


I know that within this next year, my six years of living alone and free and independent will be over. I really like my freedom. I have enjoyed not having obligations even though I’m not spontaneous or irresponsible. So, especially as an introvert, I’m still trying to grapple with the idea of no longer being alone and having my children with me all the time. It’s scary, especially thinking back to the battles I had with Josuan. But, that’s the reason that they’re in Teen Challenge—to equip them to fight together, to bring them to the place of depending on Jesus instead of just on me, and to heal enough to become a family one step at a time. Believe me—it’s a process for me as well. I’m going back to the States for a three-week break (that was planned before the meltdown, not as a result of the meltdown) starting Thanksgiving week, and it’s crazy for me to think that in only a year and half (since the last time I was in the States) that I’m returning not only with seven lives—nine including my boys in El Buen Pastor—depending on mine but with an entirely different identity as a adoptive mom. But even in the midst of doubt and exhaustion, I have to take hold of the scripture that Josuan continuously reminds me of,


“And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”
– Philippians 1:6




Josuan, Joel and I. Joel and Josuan used to sleep on the same street corner and eat out of the same garbage. Joel is partially at Teen Challenge because of Josuan's testimony.

Thank you so much for reading and for your prayers! We definitely need them!

All of my love,
Sarah

PS On September 3, I celebrated two years of living in Honduras. That’s a pretty big milestone for me. I’m happy that God has me here.