It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m on the phone with my mom. I’m trying to explain to her what I feel in my heart for my son, how torn I feel, and yet how overcome with love I am, and all I can do is cry. I’m not hurt. I’m not upset. I’m not scared. Well, I'm not that scared. I’m just overcome. The passion that is burning in my heart is just flowing from my eyes and down my cheeks. I have talked with every possible person in my life, looking for advice. I have prayed and prayed. I have weighed my options. God’s been getting me up at 4:15 AM every morning no matter how late I am up the night before, and I’m wide-awake, so I just start praying. The more I pray, the more I read the Word, the more I know that the Gospel is so simple. Either the Bible is true, or it’s not. Stop for the one. Love the one. Love your neighbor as yourself. The majority of advice I’ve gotten from people trying to protect me has been to put Josuan in 21 de Octubre until he can recover enough to go to Teen Challenge. Months ago, before ever adopting any of these boys, I had texted Raúl randomly telling him that I NEVER wanted to put any of my children—adopted or biological—in an IHNFA center, especially not 21 de Octubre and that my children could kill me first before I would abandon them in that form. My standard for myself in adoption even long before adopting has always been that I want to treat my adopted children the same way I would treat my biological children (who don’t even exist yet). God has no ugly stepchildren in His Kingdom. He doesn’t treat us like we’re second-class. He loves us all as His children in the same way that He loves Jesus. How can I be any different in my love for my children? So, I’m struggling because I’m not a rebellious person. I’m actually very submissive to the advice and ideas of others, but I cannot deny what I feel so strongly to be true—that love does not look like putting my son in a center where they treat the children like animals just because it’s more convenient, safer, or financially cheaper for me. All I can think of is what the Bible says that whatever we’re doing to the least of these, it’s as if we’re doing it to/for Jesus. If Jesus, my loving Lord and precious Savior, were to be in the same situation as my son—with a broken leg, with no family willing to take him, and in need of rehabilitation because of years of hurt and drug abuse, would I really put Jesus in a center where I wouldn’t even send my dog? Obviously not. So, how could I do the same with my son who I love more than I never knew possible? I always want to respect the ideas and wisdom of others, and I appreciate the concern that so many people in my life have, but I cannot shake the deep deep conviction that it would be a grand sin to toss my son into whatever convenient location is possible. The Bible doesn’t say to love your neighbor as yourself only if you think the person is going to change. It doesn’t say love your neighbor as yourself if you’ve known your neighbor for x amount of time and can trust him or her. It doesn’t say love your neighbor as yourself only if it won’t disturb your comfortable, convenient life. It says love your neighbor as yourself. Period. Would I want to be in 21? Absolutely never.
I reach a point where I feel like however I handle myself in this situation is going to determine my life as a missionary from this point on. I can feel the weight in this decision not just for Josuan but for myself, for my character, for my faith, and for my future. I begin to think about how it’s going to be necessary to stop going to 21 de Octubre, Sagrado Corazón, and Casitas so that I have sufficient time to take care of my son. And, I’m worried about how that’s going to look since that’s more or less all that I do other than office stuff. But, I have to analyze what my being a missionary really means. Is ministry going to these centers to “minister” to children who are just like my son—street kids, with drug addictions, with sad stories, etc.—with teaching and prayer within the comfort of those four walls where I can come and go as I please? Yes, but ministry also has to be very simple and very practical. How can I call myself a missionary if I can’t do this basic thing of stopping for the one? How can I call myself a missionary if I refuse to love this precious child back to life by caring for him until he recovers just because it’s going to mean letting go of my “ministry” for a time? How can I call myself a missionary if I don’t feel enough compassion to feed, clothe, provide shelter, and demonstrate love tangibly? I can’t. And, if I’m only here loving and helping others in order to see results or in order to fill a Christian quota or in order to make myself look good, I better just pack my suitcases now. No, this goes deeper. This is about intimacy with God. This all boils down to my motives. This boils down to the question of who do I love, fear, or respect most—man or God? Whose opinion and direction is more important to me? The heart of a missionary has to be a heart of intimacy with God, and my work as a missionary has to spring from a motive of love and being in love with God. Christ’s love COMPELS me—not because it’s what I’m supposed to do to somehow earn God’s love. It’s not because other Christians are going to approve of me. It’s not to build some grand, spiritual kingdom of numbers and programs and strategies. It’s about love and being in love with Jesus in such a way that even the thought of treating someone—a wreck of a human being in human eyes or the most upstanding citizen—any less than how we’d treat Jesus or want ourselves to be treated that it grieves our spirit just as it grieves the Holy Spirit.
I spend a significant span of time talking to Raúl about this, and I get overwhelmed with his protectiveness and advice because I feel lectured as if I’m doing something wrong when all I want to do is obey God and love like Jesus. I finally explain that while I appreciate his concern and protection, he is presenting me with problems without giving me a solution. I don’t mind being protected. I like being protected and receiving the perspectives of other people—and in this case, Christian men especially—to help me make my decisions. But, what good does it do me to receive so much advice and perspectives on possible problems if I’m not being presented a solution? Talk is cheap. Action and support mean everything and make accepting protection actually possible and enjoyable.
It’s Wednesday night, and I’m sitting beside my son’s hospital bed. We’ve been laughing and joking and talking about all kinds of things. I can’t help but feel that I am so privileged to have this time with him. I treasure it. I treasure each little thing I’m learning about him. I feel often that I’m not a very good mom because I’ve never had the experience of being a mom. So, a lot of things that normally occur to moms, don’t occur to me. It doesn’t occur to me that I should probably bring him some food until I am right outside the hospital ready to go inside. It doesn’t occur to me that I should probably demand to talk to a doctor to know what pain medication I should be buying him. It doesn’t occur to me that I should probably bring him a toothbrush and toothpaste and other hygiene items. I’m just not used to being the only person that someone has. I’m not used to being the sole provider or only person responsible. I don’t dislike being in the position I’m in, and I definitely don’t regret opening my heart so wide to help my baby. But, I am constantly learning and feeling inadequate and begging God to teach me.
As we’re talking, some doctors come over without introducing themselves and start discussing his case. (It’s called Hospital Escuela [School] for a reason.) They mention in their conversation that he should be ready to go home tomorrow, and I can feel the panic rise up within me. I knew it wouldn’t be too long after he was operated on that they’d release him, but I have nothing in place. I haven’t found a room to put him in. I haven’t found out if Teen Challenge will take him while he is on crutches. I haven’t gotten his clothes from his mom. And, when they leave, the question I anticipated but dreaded came up, “So, where am I going to go tomorrow?” I have no reason to ever lie to my children, so I told him clearly what my options were—finding a room on terribly short notice or putting him back in 21. As a single, young woman living on the property of another family, there is no way it would be appropriate or respectful for me to take him to my house. He, himself, tells me that I should put him in 21 so as not to spend so much money and time on him. But, to me, that’s the point. I want to spend time and money on him because I want him to know he’s not some random street kid to me. He’s my son. I love him. What a great opportunity to show my child the love of Jesus. How could I miss that? But, my son starts trying to convince me to put him in Casa Alianza. As mentioned in the previous post, the things I’ve heard about Casa Alianza do not in any way make me excited to send him there. However, in talking to him, I can see that in comparison to 21, it is better. So, I feel slightly more at peace that if I absolutely have to put him in a center, that at least he wouldn’t be treated like an animal in Casa Alianza. But, I’m terrified of losing him to drugs again, and I don’t want to put him in an environment that sets him up for failure. But, what are my options realistically for tomorrow?
When Raúl picks me up to take me home, we talk. I explain what my son has told me about Casa Alianza, and I’m surprised at how adamant Raúl is that that isn’t a good idea—for the same reason I don’t like the idea. I will lose him to drugs because of the proximity and easy accessibility in that center. This is coming from the man who just lectured me about not renting a room and told me to put him in 21. How am I supposed to win? We talk some more and weigh the options together, although at the end of the day, he stands by the truth that this is really my problem, not his. I go to bed having no idea where I will take my son tomorrow.
I get up early this morning and start praying. I tell God that I trust Him, that I’m ready to have an adventure with Him today, and that I believe He’s already giving me favor and opening the doors. I read Isaiah 49 that has been so wildly encouraging and such a personal promise to me. And, I head out my door ready to tackle whatever the day holds with a worshipful heart and a smile. I go first down to Raúl’s business to check and see if Nahum was able to bring the crutches he’s loaning me. (I’ve pretty much pulled out all the stops in asking for favors from everyone I know for this very special case.) As I’m walking to the business, God reminds me of something I had forgotten long ago. But, like a flash, it’s such a beautiful confirmation that I’m doing the right thing that I can’t help but laugh and dwell on God’s goodness. When I was around 16-years-old, I felt God very clearly tell me that my first son’s name was going to be Joshua. I thought that meant that I needed to name my firstborn son Joshua. But, it’s one of those things I felt like God told me but later forgot about or thought that had come from my own head, etc. In any case, it was long buried until this morning. Although Josuan’s name is not spelled like the English name Joshua, it is pronounced by him and his mother as we pronounce Joshua in English. He is the first of my adopted boys who has become mine outside the four walls of a center. He’s the first who has become mine in the sense of complete responsibility, and he got out before Jesús. He was first. God knew eight years ago that all of this was going to happen, and He told me in an obscure, random moment so that I could have that strong confirmation on just this day. What an amazing story teller!
I head to see his mom to pick up his clothes and surprisingly run into another one of my sons from 21. He’s one that wasn’t there for long, and I really only helped him by contacting his family to let them know where he was and to come visit him (since no one in the office had let them know where their missing son was). “Sarah!” He calls out to me with a giant smile and a hug and proudly tells me that he’s working with his uncle and that he’s doing well. And I hear words from Isaiah 49 echo in my head:
Lift up your eyes and look around; all your children gather and come to you. You will wear them all as ornaments; you will put them on, like a bride. . . . Then you will say in your heart, ‘Who bore me these? I was bereaved and barren; I was exiled and rejected. Who brought these up? I was left all alone, but these—where have they come from?’ . . . Then you will know that I am the Lord; those who hope in me will not be disappointed. I spend a lot of time talking to Josuan’s mom, and I hear a lot of her side of the story for the first time. I won’t lie—I still struggle to understand how a mother can refuse to visit her wayward son in the hospital, but I have a better understanding and greater compassion for her own hurts and struggles after hearing her experiences. It’s impossible to give a Love you’ve never received.
Next, I head to the Teen Challenge office, and I cautiously ask the secretary if they accept boys who are on crutches temporarily, and I think I’ll jump out of my skin with gratefulness to God when I hear that they will. So, I start making plans. I can get his medical tests done today. I can scan the picture I have that is necessary. I can get his birth certificate from his mom today. And, I can take him to his interview tomorrow. He could go as early as tomorrow. I excitedly call Raúl to let him know and ask him if he wouldn’t mind talking to Estiven (who lives with him) about Josuan’s staying there just until he’s accepted at Teen Challenge. He agrees to talk to Estiven and to let me know. I call Raúl’s dad who has agreed to help me pick up my son to take him wherever he’s going to go. He can’t until the middle of the day, though, so that buys me some time.
I head to the hospital, but they won’t let me on my son’s floor. As always, God sent me some friends (of course, they were in it to try to get my phone number) to help. When I arrive, I talk to one of his doctors and find out that he can indeed go home today but that he’s going to need his wound cleaned every other day, his stitches taken out in two weeks, and a check up in three. That changes the game plan. So, I call Raúl to let him know. I ask if he can still stay there even if it’s just for a few days until I can find another room or another option. He says that’s fine. When I return from calling Raúl, my son has visitors. His grandmother and a man are there. My heart sinks. In a flash, I can just envision this elderly woman who has raised him more than any other person in his life demanding to take him home with her, and I feel like I’ll drown because this is my son. I love him like mine. I’ve worked so hard this week to take care of him and to make him see that he is loved and that his life is worth getting help in Teen Challenge, and in a second, I could lose him because I have no legal rights. But, I also know that I have to be content with what I’ve always said that even if nothing changes, if I never see any results, if I’ve been obedient to love like Jesus and please God, I’m content.
But, it becomes apparent that he has no intent of deserting me. When the nurse comes in, she sees me and the grandmother and asks Josuan if his grandmother is his mom. He points at me and says, “No, she’s my mom.” And, knowing that his grandmother might feel slighted, I quickly explained, “And she’s his grandmother.” Josuan explains to his grandmother how I’ve been there for him, paid for his operation, and have plans to take him to Teen Challenge. And, I feel such an intense relief when I hear his grandmother say, “I’m so glad. God is going to bless you for helping him. All I want to know is how I can visit him there.” Now, I not only have my son’s permission to act as his mom, but I also have his biological mother’s permission and his grandmother’s permission. He is mine in every sense of the word.
Raúl’s dad arrives, and we finally start heading home. But, it becomes apparent with each passing moment, each grimace of pain on my baby’s face, and each difficulty in the slightest movement that there is no way I’m just going to be able to put him into Teen Challenge immediately. He is going to need some recovery time, and I don’t know if Raúl and Estiven are willing to bear with me for that long. But, I just decide to focus on this moment. The road to Raúl’s apartment is so terrible, steep, and full of giant, rocky bumps. I have never had my own kids, so I, perhaps, cannot truly speak about this. But, hearing my child literally yelling in pain as we drive up the road and as we carry him down the stairs to Raúl’s apartment and not being able to do anything about it is the worst feeling in the world. It makes me sick to my stomach even now to think about it. But he is finally situated. Estiven asks me how long he’ll be there, and I can’t answer that question. The thought of putting him through the kind of pain I saw him experience today just to move him pains me.
After some hours of recovery sleep, he is awake, reading some books I brought, and telling me how hot it is. I spend the afternoon with him. We talk about a lot of things including stories from the past. And I let him call his sister who is his best friend. I contact the nurse from 21 who just happens to be a neighbor to ask her to come clean his wound rather than having to drive him to a health center every other day. She readily agrees. I didn’t even know this woman was my neighbor until about a month ago. God is so good to me. I talk to Orlin (who is back around with Papi and trying to leave behind his own drug addictions) about helping my son bathe, and he also readily agrees. I ask Mami Nelly to let me have some food from the house to take him just for today since I have no groceries in my own house (since I haven’t been home all this week—I also have piles of dirty laundry and clutter because I’ve been running so much), and she readily agrees. And this is the beauty of obedience—that I take a step (even in defying all of these people’s advice), and my own faith and adamant obedience in love releases those same people to be compassionate, obedient, and loving, letting their own guards down even just a little. Undoubtedly, the biggest change I’ve seen in the ripple effect of my own obedience is in Raúl. Words cannot express my gratitude for how he is helping me in allowing Josuan to stay there. And this is coming from the man who adamantly insisted that I put Josuan in 21.
It’s getting later, and Raúl is planning to try to find something to eat. I haven’t eaten all day since I’ve been in Mom mode, so I ask if I can go with him and if he can take me home afterward. He agrees. I do a final check of my son who is reading a newspaper, and he assures me that he’s fine and doesn’t need anything else, so I tell him good night and leave. As Raúl and I sit together eating greasy, fried chicken and drinking Fresca, I feel so grateful to be able to leave Mom mode for even just a little bit of time and to have someone to share the stories with. And, he starts telling me about his own situations with some young female family members of a friend of ours who showed up needing a place to stay because their mother kicked them out. I am appalled at myself at how quickly I jump into protective advice mode just as he has done with me—not so much in the act of helping but in doing so in a way that is appropriate for a single guy with two teenage girls. I have to catch myself and backtrack and even as I’m protectively lecturing him, I also cautiously add just as he has that it’s his life and his decisions, but I’m always willing to support him and help him in any way I can. Because of respect for Mami and Papi and the fact that I live on their property, I can’t tell him to tell them to come stay with me. But, if I were in a position where I didn’t have to consider the privacy, etc. of Mami and Papi, I would, because my heart is to support him in his desire to help others just as he is doing for me. At the very least, he can send them my way for a female listening ear and some advice.
Now, I’m sitting in my bed so unbelievably sore from walking the long, long walk from my house to Raúl’s apartment about four times today. (And that’s only going to increase.) I’m realizing that my child doesn’t have any deodorant, probably has dirty clothes I need to wash, and I have no idea what I’m going to give him for breakfast. And I’m marveling that today has fallen so perfectly into place and has been an amazing adventure and that tomorrow is another day. This year thus far has been crazy in the absolute best way. As has always been the case for me in my life, when I finally let go of how I think my life is supposed to look or how my life purpose is supposed to unfold and just let God dream for me, my life explodes with greater meaning that I ever knew was possible. I can’t help but smile knowing that God knew ages ago and told me eight years ago that my first son would be Josuan, and while I never thought I’d be pushing my first (16-year-old) son in a wheelchair instead of as a baby in a stroller, I can think of nothing more perfect to commence my motherhood. As Nahum told me this morning (after lecturing me just like everyone else), “Really, Sarah, it’s about time. I’m surprised you haven’t started opening your heart to help like this sooner. It’s about time.”
What a beautiful life I lead. What a privilege it is. What an unspeakable joy to know that just as this son means everything to me more and more each day. He, Raúl, and I all mean everything to God. And so do you. Do you feel that love? As soon as you let yourself, it will turn your world perfectly upside down.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
I Mean Everything to You Part I
Let me paint a picture of my life over the past few days…
It’s Friday night, and Nati and Martha bring me back to my house after a church service. We’re eating dinner together and laughing when my phone starts to ring. As soon as I remind myself of the hour (around 9:30 PM) and see the name, I already know what I’m about to be told, and my heart sinks. It’s Josuan’s mom. “He went back to the streets, Sarah.” She is obviously quite upset and never wants to see him again. I know I’ll cry about it later, so I just answer calmly, say my goodbyes to Nati and Martha when they leave, and wait for the tears to come while laying in my bed listening to music. I was not surprised to hear that Josuan had gone back to the streets. I could feel it coming. We had gone to Teen Challenge to see my other sons, and standing beside him during worship, I knew quite clearly that this young man needed much more than I was giving him (or seemingly was able to give him) at that point. We were spending Sundays together, and I was in contact with him throughout the week by phone, but that Sunday morning, it was clear that that wasn’t enough. John also told me that he was worried about Josuan, that he could see the anxiousness for drugs in his behavior. But, I hadn’t been sure of what else I could do in terms of time. So, I was praying about it and examining my options before all of this happened. I had taken Friday off so to speak. I don’t have a set schedule or anyone demanding that I do anything, so I’m always free, but I often slave drive myself. I was feeling incredibly drained, and while it may be viewed as a weakness, I am learning to recognize that it is imperative for me to take the time to let God love on me and fill me up because without that time, I’m not going to last. So, I just spent Friday during the day in worship instead of going to any IHNFA center, and I know why God laid it on my heart to do that because it was vital preparation for everything that happened immediately after.
As I’m curled in my bed, the words to pray won’t even come. I’m not angry at him for going back to the streets. We don’t battle against flesh and blood, and I had already felt this coming. But, I just imagine where my baby could be, dirty, likely high, and not knowing how deeply he is loved, and I just begin to sob violently.
You placed the stars into motion.
You called the light, and it came into place.
Every detail of our beings You created.
Like a good Father, You take care. You hold my being.
You wrap Yourself around every detail of my life.
You place everything into motion.
And all I have to do is stand in the palm of Your hand
Because I mean everything to You.
I mean everything to You!
I mean everything to You!
And You mean everything to me.
You mean everything to me.
Daddy God, You mean everything to me!
I bear my soul completely before You!
I’m Yours.
Because You mean everything to me!
Everything in this world…
The words trickle into my ears soft and slow and soothing even as I am crying and shaking with such an ache in my heart for my child that I cannot explain. Oh, Daddy, I just want to hold my baby. I want him to know Your love. I want You to hold his broken heart in Your healing hands. And as these words, “I mean everything to You,” sound in my ears, I suddenly have a very life-changing revelation. The same way that I feel about my son, Josuan—that ache for him to know how much he is loved, to hold him with a healing embrace, to rescue him from all of the evil that has imprisoned him, to protect him from any more hurt, and how much I genuinely like who he is and see his beautiful potential—is the same way that God feels about me, about each one of us. My sons are everything to me. I say that, and I mean it, but I don’t even know the depth of it because I’m so human, and my love is so limited. But, that feeling is enough to show me a new depth to God’s love. I mean everything to God? My son means everything to God too? The crying doesn’t cease, but in the midst of the ache and hurt, an unspeakable, beautiful peace floods my whole being. I’ve never felt God’s love and approval so strongly in my life, so I cry because in the midst of the hurt, I am so overwhelmed with His love that just embraces every darkness in my soul. And, even though I still ache for my baby, my heart is still, knowing that he means everything to God too, so I need not worry. He’s standing in the palm of my Daddy God’s hand. And as if to seal up my mourning with words and give me rest, I get a text from Raul, “It’s ok, Sarita. Don’t worry. Jesus is taking control. God’s going to take care of him.” And, I know it’s true, so I sleep at last.
It’s Sunday night around 11:30 PM, and I know where my son is. I had talked to his mother earlier in the day because Josuan’s sister still wanted to go to Yuscaran with me, and she informed me that she’d heard he was in the hospital with a broken leg. Later, his cousin called me telling me that he’d asked her to tell me he was in the hospital. Before the cousin even called me, I had already talked to Raul to work out my transportation to the hospital to go see him. My phone buzzes and lights up, and I pick it up to see a text from an unknown number: “Hi Mami Sarah. This is Josuan, and I’m very ashamed. I’m in the hospital. Forgive me for failing you. I’m sending this message because I’m too ashamed to call you. I know you’re probably mad at me. I understand. I’m a failure.” Oh, words cannot express how much I love my son. I know he’s not a failure. He has a drug addiction. He needs help that he wasn’t getting. I’m not angry, and I want to help him, but he has to want help. I text back, but the phone had been loaned to him. So, instead, the owner, a young lady, answers, “God has big plans for your son!” I couldn’t agree more. I was told that visiting hours at the hospital were from 3-5 PM and that it wouldn’t be possible to enter earlier, so I wait until after going to 21 to visit him. I was thinking that someone from his family had already been to see him since they obviously knew where he was and that they would have already operated on him. During that time, he calls me twice from borrowed phones asking if I am going to come, and he tells me he’s still being held in the emergency room, which means I could have come earlier. I’m so grateful to God that he knows I love him enough to come (or perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t have anyone else—either way, I’m grateful). At lunch, I read Numbers 14, and while I don’t necessarily know why God directed me to this scripture, the words that echo in my heart over and over, knowing I will soon see my wayward son are, “The Lord is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion.”
When I arrive at the hospital, it’s a bit of a struggle to convince the guards to let me into the emergency room where he is still being kept since Saturday night. “I just need to see my son. He broke his leg.” Of course, being a gringa going to what is often known as “the poor man’s hospital,” they look at me like I’m crazy. “How old is your son?” “He’s sixteen.” Well, now, clearly I must be crazy since the majority of the time people don’t even think I’m 23 much less old enough to have a 16-year-old son. “He’s an adopted son.” “Oh, okay. Go ahead.” I ask for him, but the guy guarding the surgery side of the emergency room doesn’t know who he is and just tells me to go look for him. I enter scanning faces and preparing myself for how my baby is going to look since I have no idea how his leg was broken while he was on the streets. And, at last, I see him asleep in a dark corner with a large scab on his face, scruffy hair, and a very swollen leg. There aren’t any chairs so I just park myself right beside his bed on the floor, eye-level with him before gently touching his arm. He wakes up, and his eyes fill with tears as soon as he realizes it is me. “Mami Sarah, please forgive me. I failed you. Please forgive me. I’m such a failure.” I stroke my son’s hair and wipe away his tears. I don’t even have to ask if he’d been on drugs while on the streets because I can smell the glue on his breath. “You’re forgiven, honey.” But, he just keeps crying. “I’m so ashamed to even be near you.” He wears his sadness like a blanket that seems to settle into every facet of my son, and while he feels like he’s worth nothing, I struggle not to smile inappropriately because I love my son, and I know he’s not a failure. “I’m so happy to see you, son. I’m so happy to know where you are and that you’re alive.” In the midst of our conversation, the doctor comes and scolds me for sitting on the dirty floor and informs me that they haven’t operated on him because he’s going to need pins to repair his broken femur. No one from his family has visited him. He’s been alone. And, with no one to buy the pins (one must buy all of his or her own medical supplies because the hospital doesn’t have them), they have just kept him in the ER. We start talking about what pins will be necessary and how I can buy them. When that’s taken care of, Josuan just stares at me and says, “I don’t want to be a burden for you. I don’t want you to waste your money on me.” Son, no one is forcing me be here right now. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t.” “I’m going to pay you back.” “I’m not worried about that right now.” I won’t lie—I don’t have a tree that gives forth the fruit of cash, so I am mentally checking my bank account to know where I stand financially after paying for the pins to operate on him, but I’m also reminding myself that I serve a big God, that I’m a daughter of the King, and that He has ALWAYS been faithful to provide.
Then, the question that I was already anticipating comes, “What am I going to do now?” I had spent much thought and sleepless hours of prayer contemplating that very question because I knew he’d want an answer from me. His mom is angry. She is a woman full of hurt herself, and she has other children to take care of. She wants nothing to do with him. This is obvious because she never came to the hospital to see him. It is clear to me that he needs more help than he is ever going to get in that environment anyway. I want to send him to Teen Challenge, but the issue is going to be how to take care of him while he’s recuperating from this broken leg. I’m secretly grateful that it’s a broken leg because it means that he won’t be going anywhere—especially the streets. I don’t address all of that just yet because I want to get a good understanding of why he returned to the streets anyway. “Why did you leave your house, honey?” The tears start to flow again as he explains, “I don’t know what happened. I just feel like the devil just entered my mind because I was fine in my house. I felt good being there with my family, but I had just sold all of these bracelets. And seeing all of that money in my hands, I don’t know, I just felt the urge to bolt.” The very first Sunday we spent together, he had asked me for 100 lempiras to buy yarn to make bracelets. We had a conversation in that moment where I explained that I didn’t want to give him money in his hand because it’s too much of a temptation. “What, you don’t trust me? Don’t even talk to me about going back to the streets. I never want to go back there.” “It’s not a matter of trusting you. It’s a matter of protecting you. It’s a matter of not putting you in a dangerous situation that could tempt you to go back to the streets.” He didn’t understand then, but now, he does. I’m grateful for that moment because it gives me more credibility now.
“What am I going to do, Sarah? I want to change. I don’t want to be this way anymore. Every time I’ve wanted to change, and I mess up, something like this happens to me. I never thought I’d break my leg.” “How did this happen?” He recounts the story of how two guys stole some money from him and took a baseball bat to his leg. The X-ray is tremendous, but at least it’s a clean break and isn’t shattered. I explain that I don’t believe that God is punishing him but rather that God is working everything for His glory. The fact that he has a broken leg is really a blessing because if he wouldn’t have broken his leg, he’d probably still be on the streets, and I would have been in the same situation with him as I am with Jonathan and Juliano—I want to help but until they’re ready to change and accept the sacrifice it’s going to mean to receive help, all I can do is visit them, love on them, and pray. He wouldn’t be here with me, with a heart more willing to receive help, and with an injury that is actually protecting him from himself.
I explain that I want to send him to Teen Challenge, and, as I expected, his heart sinks. “I don’t want to be imprisoned.” (The word that he uses isn’t quite as strong as imprisoned, but there isn’t an easy way to translate in English. More or less, he doesn’t want to be shut up somewhere with limited independence.) So, this is when I have to get really honest. “Look, if you want to change, at some point, you’re going to have to make the sacrifices necessary to change your life in the long run. I want to help you, but I can’t force you. If you don’t want help, my hands are tied.” “What about Casa Alianza?” Casa Alianza is a center that is famously popular among young street kids because they have so much freedom (which also means that the stories of drugs and corruption on the inside are unending). Josuan has been in Casa Alianza before. He has escaped from there numerous times. He himself has told me the stories, and as a protective mama, that center is not good enough for my son. Even just its location so close to the heart of drugs and street life would be problematic. For me, the answer is no. “Honey, I’m not going to half-help you. Either you’re going to be in a place where you will actually get the help that you need, or I can’t do anything for you. You cannot fight this addiction on your own. You need a lot. You need God to heal your heart. You need God to free you. You haven’t even told me the majority of your stories, but I know you’ve been very hurt. You need God to enter those places of your heart that even you and I can’t see. We’re all humans. We’re all going to mess up. You’re not a failure. We don’t fight against flesh and blood. We fight against evil spirits that fill our minds with those thoughts just like what made you leave your house. You can think you’re doing okay, but all of the sudden, the enemy attacks with those thoughts. And, if you’re not firm and haven’t been taught how to be firm in Christ, you’re not going to be able to win against that enemy. You are so valuable to God. We only come to God and move forward in life, free from our vices, because of the sacrifice of Jesus and because of God’s grace. The whole point in Jesus coming to die for our sins was because we cannot, in and of our own strength, rescue ourselves. We have to let Him rescue us, but it means we have to stop lying to ourselves that we can do it on our own.” He avoids looking in my eyes and stays quiet for a bit. “I’ve seen the way that Teen Challenge has changed the lives of others because it teaches you how to let God strengthen and heal you. You’re my son, and I love you. I want God’s best for you. I believe that your life doesn’t have to be like this, but if you’re not willing to sacrifice your independence on the short-term, you will not see the change in your life and heart in the long-term. If you go there, you’re not going to be alone. You already have brothers there. You know John. You know Jesús.” “How long will it be that I won’t be able to see you? How long will I have to wait to have visits from you?” “Well, you already know that I go once a month anyway, and I’m thinking about going twice a month on those Sundays when I don’t go to Yuscaran. It’s just going to depend on my financial situation. I don’t want you to be far from me either because you’re my son, and I love you, and I want you close to me. But, I also want what’s best for you, and you already know that I can’t give you everything you need. I don’t have a house to take you to or a father to give you. I can’t heal your heart like Jesus can. The commitment to go to Teen Challenge is for a year. I don’t know what God’s going to do in my life in a year, but regardless, you’re mine. As long as you’re willing to let me help you, even when you leave Teen Challenge after a year, I’m willing to help you.” He gets quiet again, but eventually says, “Ok. Whatever you feel like is best for me and is necessary to help me, I trust you.” “No, this can’t just be a decision based on what I want. You have to want to go, or they’re not even going to accept you.” “No, I do because I want to change, and if that’s where I need to go to change, I want to go to Teen Challenge.”
Raúl comes to pick me up hours later, and as I imagined, he has a heart change. He called me protectively questioning and lecturing me about spending money on buying the pins and not taking on burdens that don’t belong to me and being mindful of how much other people like Mami and Papi have suffered in sticking their necks out so much for street kids. But, I calmly remind him that he knows me better—I never want to love or help someone because I expect results or to receive something in return. I want to love and help others unconditionally because it’s what God commands us to do and because He has placed this love in my heart. Even if I never see any results, if I’m obeying God, that is enough. Even if Josuan returns to the streets, escapes from Teen Challenge, and never leaves a life of drugs, every penny, every second of time, and every heartache has to be worth it because the love of Christ compels me—not the desire to see results. And, as I expected, when Raúl sees Josuan, looks at his X-ray, and realizes that no one from his family has come, I see the change on his face. His heart isn’t completely opened, but the proximity to this child makes it impossible for this soft-hearted man to be so adamant in protecting me. When we’re headed home, he tells me, “You don’t have to be doing what you’re doing, but I’m glad you are.” “How can I not help this child, Raúl? He has no one else. You lecture me, and I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but I know you—if you were in the same situation with someone you love, you’d do the same. I’m not interested in having some big ministry. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think that I’m some magical miracle worker or somehow better than everything that Mami and Papi have experienced, but I can’t ignore the simplicity of the gospel. It’s just that this is a person who I love who has a need, and if I can meet that need, how can I not help him?” “No, you’re right in helping him. And I want to be supportive of that because like you said, you’re not doing it for results. It’s for obedience and for love.”
It’s 6:30 AM when I reach the hospital the following day with Raúl’s dad, a retired X-ray tech, for Josuan’s operation. Hours (and lots of run-around and an angry gringa mama) later, he is finally taken to be operated on. I wait for hours and hours for him to leave the recovery room. In the mean time, a young man, Wilman, starts talking to me. He’s 16 and comes with his adopted mom every ten days to spend four days in the hospital while she is on dialysis. For that reason and because he’s so outgoing, he has friends all over the hospital. We talk about everything—my son, my being a missionary, my other sons in Teen Challenge, his life, his past on the streets, and his love for his adopted mom. When my son finally does leave the recovery room, he has returned to his normal self, eager to eat and joking with me, and my new friend, Wilman, helps me wheel his bed back to the ER since they don’t have space for him on the post-op floor. God always leads me to people who can help me, and if I’m faithful to be compassionate and kind towards them (even when I’m tired), it is always rewarding. Hours and hours of waiting later (and more scolding from the doctor for sitting on the dirty floor), I finally just let my son know I’m going to bring him something to eat and will be back. I haven’t eaten all day. I smell terrible after hours in the summer heat and from loving on a street child who hasn’t bathed in five days. I take a breather, eat a little bit, and turn the question over and over and over in my mind—what am I going to do with him while he’s recovering? I’ve thought about it. I’ve prayed about it. I’ve begged God to give me direction. I’ve called a lady in Tatumbla who has taken in street kids in the past, but she said no. And, the more I weigh my options, the more I know that I really only have one option that is not so much an option but a wonderful opportunity…
Let me paint a picture of my life over the past few days…
It’s Friday night, and Nati and Martha bring me back to my house after a church service. We’re eating dinner together and laughing when my phone starts to ring. As soon as I remind myself of the hour (around 9:30 PM) and see the name, I already know what I’m about to be told, and my heart sinks. It’s Josuan’s mom. “He went back to the streets, Sarah.” She is obviously quite upset and never wants to see him again. I know I’ll cry about it later, so I just answer calmly, say my goodbyes to Nati and Martha when they leave, and wait for the tears to come while laying in my bed listening to music. I was not surprised to hear that Josuan had gone back to the streets. I could feel it coming. We had gone to Teen Challenge to see my other sons, and standing beside him during worship, I knew quite clearly that this young man needed much more than I was giving him (or seemingly was able to give him) at that point. We were spending Sundays together, and I was in contact with him throughout the week by phone, but that Sunday morning, it was clear that that wasn’t enough. John also told me that he was worried about Josuan, that he could see the anxiousness for drugs in his behavior. But, I hadn’t been sure of what else I could do in terms of time. So, I was praying about it and examining my options before all of this happened. I had taken Friday off so to speak. I don’t have a set schedule or anyone demanding that I do anything, so I’m always free, but I often slave drive myself. I was feeling incredibly drained, and while it may be viewed as a weakness, I am learning to recognize that it is imperative for me to take the time to let God love on me and fill me up because without that time, I’m not going to last. So, I just spent Friday during the day in worship instead of going to any IHNFA center, and I know why God laid it on my heart to do that because it was vital preparation for everything that happened immediately after.
As I’m curled in my bed, the words to pray won’t even come. I’m not angry at him for going back to the streets. We don’t battle against flesh and blood, and I had already felt this coming. But, I just imagine where my baby could be, dirty, likely high, and not knowing how deeply he is loved, and I just begin to sob violently.
You placed the stars into motion.
You called the light, and it came into place.
Every detail of our beings You created.
Like a good Father, You take care. You hold my being.
You wrap Yourself around every detail of my life.
You place everything into motion.
And all I have to do is stand in the palm of Your hand
Because I mean everything to You.
I mean everything to You!
I mean everything to You!
And You mean everything to me.
You mean everything to me.
Daddy God, You mean everything to me!
I bear my soul completely before You!
I’m Yours.
Because You mean everything to me!
Everything in this world…
The words trickle into my ears soft and slow and soothing even as I am crying and shaking with such an ache in my heart for my child that I cannot explain. Oh, Daddy, I just want to hold my baby. I want him to know Your love. I want You to hold his broken heart in Your healing hands. And as these words, “I mean everything to You,” sound in my ears, I suddenly have a very life-changing revelation. The same way that I feel about my son, Josuan—that ache for him to know how much he is loved, to hold him with a healing embrace, to rescue him from all of the evil that has imprisoned him, to protect him from any more hurt, and how much I genuinely like who he is and see his beautiful potential—is the same way that God feels about me, about each one of us. My sons are everything to me. I say that, and I mean it, but I don’t even know the depth of it because I’m so human, and my love is so limited. But, that feeling is enough to show me a new depth to God’s love. I mean everything to God? My son means everything to God too? The crying doesn’t cease, but in the midst of the ache and hurt, an unspeakable, beautiful peace floods my whole being. I’ve never felt God’s love and approval so strongly in my life, so I cry because in the midst of the hurt, I am so overwhelmed with His love that just embraces every darkness in my soul. And, even though I still ache for my baby, my heart is still, knowing that he means everything to God too, so I need not worry. He’s standing in the palm of my Daddy God’s hand. And as if to seal up my mourning with words and give me rest, I get a text from Raul, “It’s ok, Sarita. Don’t worry. Jesus is taking control. God’s going to take care of him.” And, I know it’s true, so I sleep at last.
It’s Sunday night around 11:30 PM, and I know where my son is. I had talked to his mother earlier in the day because Josuan’s sister still wanted to go to Yuscaran with me, and she informed me that she’d heard he was in the hospital with a broken leg. Later, his cousin called me telling me that he’d asked her to tell me he was in the hospital. Before the cousin even called me, I had already talked to Raul to work out my transportation to the hospital to go see him. My phone buzzes and lights up, and I pick it up to see a text from an unknown number: “Hi Mami Sarah. This is Josuan, and I’m very ashamed. I’m in the hospital. Forgive me for failing you. I’m sending this message because I’m too ashamed to call you. I know you’re probably mad at me. I understand. I’m a failure.” Oh, words cannot express how much I love my son. I know he’s not a failure. He has a drug addiction. He needs help that he wasn’t getting. I’m not angry, and I want to help him, but he has to want help. I text back, but the phone had been loaned to him. So, instead, the owner, a young lady, answers, “God has big plans for your son!” I couldn’t agree more. I was told that visiting hours at the hospital were from 3-5 PM and that it wouldn’t be possible to enter earlier, so I wait until after going to 21 to visit him. I was thinking that someone from his family had already been to see him since they obviously knew where he was and that they would have already operated on him. During that time, he calls me twice from borrowed phones asking if I am going to come, and he tells me he’s still being held in the emergency room, which means I could have come earlier. I’m so grateful to God that he knows I love him enough to come (or perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t have anyone else—either way, I’m grateful). At lunch, I read Numbers 14, and while I don’t necessarily know why God directed me to this scripture, the words that echo in my heart over and over, knowing I will soon see my wayward son are, “The Lord is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion.”
When I arrive at the hospital, it’s a bit of a struggle to convince the guards to let me into the emergency room where he is still being kept since Saturday night. “I just need to see my son. He broke his leg.” Of course, being a gringa going to what is often known as “the poor man’s hospital,” they look at me like I’m crazy. “How old is your son?” “He’s sixteen.” Well, now, clearly I must be crazy since the majority of the time people don’t even think I’m 23 much less old enough to have a 16-year-old son. “He’s an adopted son.” “Oh, okay. Go ahead.” I ask for him, but the guy guarding the surgery side of the emergency room doesn’t know who he is and just tells me to go look for him. I enter scanning faces and preparing myself for how my baby is going to look since I have no idea how his leg was broken while he was on the streets. And, at last, I see him asleep in a dark corner with a large scab on his face, scruffy hair, and a very swollen leg. There aren’t any chairs so I just park myself right beside his bed on the floor, eye-level with him before gently touching his arm. He wakes up, and his eyes fill with tears as soon as he realizes it is me. “Mami Sarah, please forgive me. I failed you. Please forgive me. I’m such a failure.” I stroke my son’s hair and wipe away his tears. I don’t even have to ask if he’d been on drugs while on the streets because I can smell the glue on his breath. “You’re forgiven, honey.” But, he just keeps crying. “I’m so ashamed to even be near you.” He wears his sadness like a blanket that seems to settle into every facet of my son, and while he feels like he’s worth nothing, I struggle not to smile inappropriately because I love my son, and I know he’s not a failure. “I’m so happy to see you, son. I’m so happy to know where you are and that you’re alive.” In the midst of our conversation, the doctor comes and scolds me for sitting on the dirty floor and informs me that they haven’t operated on him because he’s going to need pins to repair his broken femur. No one from his family has visited him. He’s been alone. And, with no one to buy the pins (one must buy all of his or her own medical supplies because the hospital doesn’t have them), they have just kept him in the ER. We start talking about what pins will be necessary and how I can buy them. When that’s taken care of, Josuan just stares at me and says, “I don’t want to be a burden for you. I don’t want you to waste your money on me.” Son, no one is forcing me be here right now. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t.” “I’m going to pay you back.” “I’m not worried about that right now.” I won’t lie—I don’t have a tree that gives forth the fruit of cash, so I am mentally checking my bank account to know where I stand financially after paying for the pins to operate on him, but I’m also reminding myself that I serve a big God, that I’m a daughter of the King, and that He has ALWAYS been faithful to provide.
Then, the question that I was already anticipating comes, “What am I going to do now?” I had spent much thought and sleepless hours of prayer contemplating that very question because I knew he’d want an answer from me. His mom is angry. She is a woman full of hurt herself, and she has other children to take care of. She wants nothing to do with him. This is obvious because she never came to the hospital to see him. It is clear to me that he needs more help than he is ever going to get in that environment anyway. I want to send him to Teen Challenge, but the issue is going to be how to take care of him while he’s recuperating from this broken leg. I’m secretly grateful that it’s a broken leg because it means that he won’t be going anywhere—especially the streets. I don’t address all of that just yet because I want to get a good understanding of why he returned to the streets anyway. “Why did you leave your house, honey?” The tears start to flow again as he explains, “I don’t know what happened. I just feel like the devil just entered my mind because I was fine in my house. I felt good being there with my family, but I had just sold all of these bracelets. And seeing all of that money in my hands, I don’t know, I just felt the urge to bolt.” The very first Sunday we spent together, he had asked me for 100 lempiras to buy yarn to make bracelets. We had a conversation in that moment where I explained that I didn’t want to give him money in his hand because it’s too much of a temptation. “What, you don’t trust me? Don’t even talk to me about going back to the streets. I never want to go back there.” “It’s not a matter of trusting you. It’s a matter of protecting you. It’s a matter of not putting you in a dangerous situation that could tempt you to go back to the streets.” He didn’t understand then, but now, he does. I’m grateful for that moment because it gives me more credibility now.
“What am I going to do, Sarah? I want to change. I don’t want to be this way anymore. Every time I’ve wanted to change, and I mess up, something like this happens to me. I never thought I’d break my leg.” “How did this happen?” He recounts the story of how two guys stole some money from him and took a baseball bat to his leg. The X-ray is tremendous, but at least it’s a clean break and isn’t shattered. I explain that I don’t believe that God is punishing him but rather that God is working everything for His glory. The fact that he has a broken leg is really a blessing because if he wouldn’t have broken his leg, he’d probably still be on the streets, and I would have been in the same situation with him as I am with Jonathan and Juliano—I want to help but until they’re ready to change and accept the sacrifice it’s going to mean to receive help, all I can do is visit them, love on them, and pray. He wouldn’t be here with me, with a heart more willing to receive help, and with an injury that is actually protecting him from himself.
I explain that I want to send him to Teen Challenge, and, as I expected, his heart sinks. “I don’t want to be imprisoned.” (The word that he uses isn’t quite as strong as imprisoned, but there isn’t an easy way to translate in English. More or less, he doesn’t want to be shut up somewhere with limited independence.) So, this is when I have to get really honest. “Look, if you want to change, at some point, you’re going to have to make the sacrifices necessary to change your life in the long run. I want to help you, but I can’t force you. If you don’t want help, my hands are tied.” “What about Casa Alianza?” Casa Alianza is a center that is famously popular among young street kids because they have so much freedom (which also means that the stories of drugs and corruption on the inside are unending). Josuan has been in Casa Alianza before. He has escaped from there numerous times. He himself has told me the stories, and as a protective mama, that center is not good enough for my son. Even just its location so close to the heart of drugs and street life would be problematic. For me, the answer is no. “Honey, I’m not going to half-help you. Either you’re going to be in a place where you will actually get the help that you need, or I can’t do anything for you. You cannot fight this addiction on your own. You need a lot. You need God to heal your heart. You need God to free you. You haven’t even told me the majority of your stories, but I know you’ve been very hurt. You need God to enter those places of your heart that even you and I can’t see. We’re all humans. We’re all going to mess up. You’re not a failure. We don’t fight against flesh and blood. We fight against evil spirits that fill our minds with those thoughts just like what made you leave your house. You can think you’re doing okay, but all of the sudden, the enemy attacks with those thoughts. And, if you’re not firm and haven’t been taught how to be firm in Christ, you’re not going to be able to win against that enemy. You are so valuable to God. We only come to God and move forward in life, free from our vices, because of the sacrifice of Jesus and because of God’s grace. The whole point in Jesus coming to die for our sins was because we cannot, in and of our own strength, rescue ourselves. We have to let Him rescue us, but it means we have to stop lying to ourselves that we can do it on our own.” He avoids looking in my eyes and stays quiet for a bit. “I’ve seen the way that Teen Challenge has changed the lives of others because it teaches you how to let God strengthen and heal you. You’re my son, and I love you. I want God’s best for you. I believe that your life doesn’t have to be like this, but if you’re not willing to sacrifice your independence on the short-term, you will not see the change in your life and heart in the long-term. If you go there, you’re not going to be alone. You already have brothers there. You know John. You know Jesús.” “How long will it be that I won’t be able to see you? How long will I have to wait to have visits from you?” “Well, you already know that I go once a month anyway, and I’m thinking about going twice a month on those Sundays when I don’t go to Yuscaran. It’s just going to depend on my financial situation. I don’t want you to be far from me either because you’re my son, and I love you, and I want you close to me. But, I also want what’s best for you, and you already know that I can’t give you everything you need. I don’t have a house to take you to or a father to give you. I can’t heal your heart like Jesus can. The commitment to go to Teen Challenge is for a year. I don’t know what God’s going to do in my life in a year, but regardless, you’re mine. As long as you’re willing to let me help you, even when you leave Teen Challenge after a year, I’m willing to help you.” He gets quiet again, but eventually says, “Ok. Whatever you feel like is best for me and is necessary to help me, I trust you.” “No, this can’t just be a decision based on what I want. You have to want to go, or they’re not even going to accept you.” “No, I do because I want to change, and if that’s where I need to go to change, I want to go to Teen Challenge.”
Raúl comes to pick me up hours later, and as I imagined, he has a heart change. He called me protectively questioning and lecturing me about spending money on buying the pins and not taking on burdens that don’t belong to me and being mindful of how much other people like Mami and Papi have suffered in sticking their necks out so much for street kids. But, I calmly remind him that he knows me better—I never want to love or help someone because I expect results or to receive something in return. I want to love and help others unconditionally because it’s what God commands us to do and because He has placed this love in my heart. Even if I never see any results, if I’m obeying God, that is enough. Even if Josuan returns to the streets, escapes from Teen Challenge, and never leaves a life of drugs, every penny, every second of time, and every heartache has to be worth it because the love of Christ compels me—not the desire to see results. And, as I expected, when Raúl sees Josuan, looks at his X-ray, and realizes that no one from his family has come, I see the change on his face. His heart isn’t completely opened, but the proximity to this child makes it impossible for this soft-hearted man to be so adamant in protecting me. When we’re headed home, he tells me, “You don’t have to be doing what you’re doing, but I’m glad you are.” “How can I not help this child, Raúl? He has no one else. You lecture me, and I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but I know you—if you were in the same situation with someone you love, you’d do the same. I’m not interested in having some big ministry. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think that I’m some magical miracle worker or somehow better than everything that Mami and Papi have experienced, but I can’t ignore the simplicity of the gospel. It’s just that this is a person who I love who has a need, and if I can meet that need, how can I not help him?” “No, you’re right in helping him. And I want to be supportive of that because like you said, you’re not doing it for results. It’s for obedience and for love.”
It’s 6:30 AM when I reach the hospital the following day with Raúl’s dad, a retired X-ray tech, for Josuan’s operation. Hours (and lots of run-around and an angry gringa mama) later, he is finally taken to be operated on. I wait for hours and hours for him to leave the recovery room. In the mean time, a young man, Wilman, starts talking to me. He’s 16 and comes with his adopted mom every ten days to spend four days in the hospital while she is on dialysis. For that reason and because he’s so outgoing, he has friends all over the hospital. We talk about everything—my son, my being a missionary, my other sons in Teen Challenge, his life, his past on the streets, and his love for his adopted mom. When my son finally does leave the recovery room, he has returned to his normal self, eager to eat and joking with me, and my new friend, Wilman, helps me wheel his bed back to the ER since they don’t have space for him on the post-op floor. God always leads me to people who can help me, and if I’m faithful to be compassionate and kind towards them (even when I’m tired), it is always rewarding. Hours and hours of waiting later (and more scolding from the doctor for sitting on the dirty floor), I finally just let my son know I’m going to bring him something to eat and will be back. I haven’t eaten all day. I smell terrible after hours in the summer heat and from loving on a street child who hasn’t bathed in five days. I take a breather, eat a little bit, and turn the question over and over and over in my mind—what am I going to do with him while he’s recovering? I’ve thought about it. I’ve prayed about it. I’ve begged God to give me direction. I’ve called a lady in Tatumbla who has taken in street kids in the past, but she said no. And, the more I weigh my options, the more I know that I really only have one option that is not so much an option but a wonderful opportunity…
Monday, February 18, 2013
A New Kind of Love
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| I've always wanted to have my kids artwork on my refrigerator, and now I do! These are pictures colored by my sons at 21 at Christmas. Hello All, I just wanted to take some time to keep you updated on life here in Honduras and as an adoptive mom… Update on My Sons For those of you who have been reading, here is a little update on my sons: John Allan: He has been in Teen Challenge since before Christmas, and there are no words for how proud this mama is of her boy! The day before he went to Teen Challenge, a church came to have a service in his house, and that night, he decided to accept Jesus into his heart. He hasn’t been the same since. God is working to restore his family, and the changes I see in him when I visit fill my heart with hope for others. This boy was known as “The Devil” on the streets, but the call of God on his life is huge. He is a natural leader and a servant, and I’m so excited to see what God to do to heal his past and illuminate his future. I just saw him yesterday, and we had a little conversation about how he is the oldest of my sons and the oldest brother, so he has to be the example. Honestly, I feel better sending my sons to Teen Challenge because I know how John is—he has a natural way of taking others under his wing like a father. Please keep praying for him and his family, that God would break generational chains of drugs and would also start paving the way for him when he leaves at the end of his year in Teen Challenge. Elvis: Elvis is currently in an orphanage called El Buen Pastor. I haven’t seen him in months and months because I haven’t had transportation and don’t know where the center is. But, as soon as my car is fully fixed, and it’s a visitation day, the plan is to go visit him. The directors of the center visited 21 and showed the office pictures of Elvis smiling and playing with friends, which makes me so happy. Gerson: He is in La Ceiba. When he left, he was supposedly going to go back to the center he grew up in with his siblings. But, IHNFA (Child Services) messed up somewhere along the line, and for a while, neither the center nor the staff at 21 knew where he was. (And the staff at 21 wouldn’t have known he was missing if it wasn’t for me calling the center to check on him.) He is currently living with a foster family because the center wouldn’t take him back due to his behavior. My only meager contact to know he’s okay is with the director of the center who occasionally visits him. But, he doesn’t have my number, and I don’t have his, and La Ceiba is far away. But, I hope to visit him if God opens a door at some point. At any rate, I haven’t forgotten him, and he’s always in my prayers. Carlos “Mexicano”: I miss my baby so much. I have no idea where he is. At the beginning of January, he was transferred from 21 to a center where he’d lived before, Crea. But, he escaped from the first moment he stepped out of the vehicle. He had left me a phone number to contact him of a friend he’d met while he was in Crea. I was expecting it to be the family of another street kid, but it turned out to be a director of various homes in the city for street kids. When I finally got in contact with the guy, Carlos was living in a home for adults who’d lived on the streets in a bad neighborhood. Alvin took me to go visit him, and I was so happy to see my baby. He told me, “Did you come to take me away from here, Sarah? They’re mistreating me here because I’m so little. I don’t want to be here. This is worse than 21.” He wanted to be in another center, but I didn’t have the authority to take him there. And, I was getting ready to be away at camp for a week. But, I called and called the director of the home and was never able to get a hold of him. When I got back from camp, though, the director finally called me back to tell me that Carlos had escaped. I haven’t seen him since the beginning of January, and I haven’t heard anything from him either. This little boy has felt like mine for such a long time that my mother’s heart aches for him. I hate not knowing where he is or if he’s safe. Please pray for my baby. My heart’s cry has been that God would bring protect him and bring him back to me. Jonathan: He prayed to receive Jesus before Christmas in 21. But, the holidays were really rough on him because his brother didn’t come visit him. So, he escaped. I didn’t found out until I got back from camp, and all I could do was cry. There had been death threats out for him in his neighborhood while he was in 21, so I was so afraid for him. But, he hasn’t returned to his neighborhood and is living on the streets. I know his location, though, and the last time I went to the streets at night with Nati and Martha to hand out food to the street kids, I saw him and was able to talk to him. I love this kid so much. He’s wrapped up in some really dangerous stuff, and I want to help him, but I have to wait until he’s really ready to be helped. Please pray that God would have mercy on my son and bring him into His arms of radical love. Ramón: My special needs son is in bad shape, to be honest with you. He’s spent the past several months sick in some form or another, and he doesn’t receive as good of care at 21 as he did at Casitas Kennedy. 21 is really not a good place for special needs kids. I believe he knows who I am because he always comes near me, holds my hand, and sometimes, likes to sit on my lap. But, I have also found that what Mami Nelly told me is true—he has a demon. He comes close to me looking for love and can be perfectly fine, but not long after sitting with me, he starts going crazy, biting and hitting himself with wild eyes. It has broken my heart so much to see his little arms covered in infected wounds and scars from his own teeth that I’ve just started doing the only thing I know to do (I have so much to learn!) which is pray in tongues for him when he comes close to me. When he gets close, I pat his back and love on him while praying in tongues, and when I’m praying, he can’t stand to be close to me. He starts screaming and hitting himself and runs away for a while. But, he always comes back looking for love. When I’m not praying, he sits peacefully with me, so I don’t always pray. But, now, it’s gotten even worse. When he comes near me, I love on him always, but I’ve also started just repeating Jesus’ name over and over again quietly. And, it’s gotten to the point that not only does he initially run away, but then he comes back and hits me or bites me, which he never used to do before. Like I said, I have much to learn about the supernatural realm, so please pray for my son and that God would give me wisdom as to how to love him in such a way that leads to his healing from this demonic torment. Jorge: Jorge is now back where he has always grown up—El Buen Pastor with Elvis. I still haven’t had a chance to visit. But, Lord willing, the next visitation day next month (there’s only one a month), I want to go see my sons. Jorge blessed me so much because during his time at 21, he started taking care of my special needs son, Ramón. When I first met Jorge, he was hitting Ramón. Nothing upsets me more than when the boys are hitting the special needs kids, but my usual way of handling it (depending on the child) is to block the hits by wrapping the offender up in a big hug and asking him, “What is going on in your own heart that you feel like you need to hit someone who can’t defend himself? Just as I would never want anyone to hit you because you’re my son, and I love you, I don’t want anyone to hit Ramón either because he’s my son, and I love him.” That doesn’t always change the situation (again, it depends on the child), but sometimes, it does. And, in the case of Jorge, it did. After Jorge saw how much I love him and how much I love Ramón, he took Ramón under his wing, bathing him, changing him, and being his friend. They got so close that when I went at Christmas with Raúl, Raúl thought they were brothers because of how well Jorge took care of Ramón. No doubt Ramón misses him now. Jesús: Once Jorge left, Jesús took Jorge’s place in taking care of Ramón for me. That is something that has really blessed my heart—seeing how God has used my love for one to start a chain reaction to love another. (Now, I’m not sure who is taking care of Ramón.) Jesús has now been in Teen Challenge for a little over a week now. I went to Teen Challenge yesterday to visit my other sons. Jesús isn’t allowed to have visitors yet, so while I did see him, we didn’t hang out too much. John Allan has taken him under his wing and his discipline and tells me that Jesús is rebellious and rude, which doesn’t surprise me. I know that these boys who are often so sweet with me are indeed street children and gang members, which means they do have lots of things within them that are going to come out even if it’s not with me. But, it’s still early in the process, and I feel better knowing that John is looking out for him and treating him like a little brother. And, through dealing with Jesús’ attitude, John is learning patience and compassion. Marvin: He is still in Teen Challenge and will soon have permission to visit his family on the weekends. My precious little boy with the sweet, dimpled smile is tremendous! He is such a character who keeps me laughing, but there is nothing more that blesses me like seeing him and John at Teen Challenge and seeing how God is working in their lives and hearts. Sometimes, it is easy to get discouraged working with the “hopeless” cases and dealing with so many who have escaped and are living on the streets, but God continuously encourages me through Marvin and John. Please be praying for continued strength for them and for a house/way to support and disciple them once they leave Teen Challenge. Joshuan: My fantastic son is still doing well. He has spent every Sunday since he got out of 21 with me. We go to Yuscaran (often his sister comes to), to church, and yesterday, he went to Teen Challenge. He is going to school, and as far as I can tell, he is doing his homework. He continues to make bracelets to sell. And, I have been blessed that he has been able to connect with Hermano Nati, which takes the burden of parenting him a little off of me. I can’t be a father to him, but Nati has a father’s heart, and seeing him hugging my son or teaching my son how to tie a tie fills my heart with joy in a way that I can’t express. He turned 16 just this past week, and we went out to eat and just spent some time together. And, I am so grateful to God that after spending his last birthday on the streets that this birthday finds him healthy, living with family, and with a heart more open to God than ever before. Please pray that God would give me wisdom in parenting him because I feel like he needs so much, and I need to spend more time with him. And please pray for his protection and that God would continue to work in his heart and life. Juliano: After God provided the money to send Juliano to Teen Challenge, and I was just waiting for him to say yes, that he wanted to go, he escaped. It breaks my heart because my child is living on the streets, filthy, skinny, high, and in danger. His heart is so wounded that it’s difficult for him to feel anything or to believe that his life could be worth something. I got a tip about where he is though, so the plan is to look for him when we go to the streets to hand out food tomorrow night. Please keep my son in your prayers. I so long to see him healed alongside his best buddy, John, at Teen Challenge. The call on my baby’s life is so huge; he just can’t see it yet. Gustavo: Gustavo is a newly adopted son. Although he’s a little thing, he is a live wire who likes to be in the center of attention, practicing his English words. We haven’t really had too much time to get to know each other yet, but I can see that there is much sadness in his heart. I first saw him on the streets when I’d go with Alvin and teams to hand out food. He ended up at 21 initially, but he was sent to Casitas Kennedy because he lacked a month to turn 12. But, he escaped. He was raised by his grandmother but turned to a life on the streets whenever she was murdered. His mother lives nearby with his other younger siblings, but his mother can’t/doesn’t control him because he has drug addictions. I also don’t get the sense that his relationship with his mother is loving. Although it’s not confirmed yet, I would venture to say that he’s living in Casa Amber, a house for street kids established by another North American. It’s possible that if we go to the streets tomorrow night that I’ll see him. Just One Little Life This month makes a year that I’ve been going to 21 de Octubre. It has turned my life upside down in the best way possible. My life is also incredibly busy compared to how it was just a year ago. My life is consumed with my sons and with opening my heart wider and spending more time at other centers as well. The population at 21 right now is really difficult to work with because my heart in being there has been for the ones who have been there for a long time, who have practically grown up there, or who have no one. All of those boys, though, have left for other centers or have escaped. Right now, the majority of the boys there is older, new, and will likely not be there longer than a few weeks. Many of them have family, and they don’t know me enough to know how to respect me. While I always want to be there for the special needs kids who truly often have no one, for the time being, the population at 21 isn’t too conducive to my being there to help. Plus, my psychologist friend just got transferred from 21 to Casitas, which means that it’s a bit more difficult for me to help simply because I won’t have that connection helping me with individual cases like she did with Joshuan and Jesús. So, I’m seeking God as to what my schedule needs to look like. I never want to abandon 21 especially because I never know when Carlos, Juliano, or Jonathan will end up there again, but I want to be sensitive to God’s leading. So, I’ve also started going with Nelly one day a week to Sagrado Corazón, the girls’ juvenile detention center, and Casitas Kennedy, the temporary, government-run orphanage. Once I get better at driving and have a better sense of direction, I’d like to start spending more time at Sagrado, even perhaps spending one night a week there to be able to build relationships with the girls who are all there long-term. This has been on my heart to do since I moved here; it’s just been a matter of timing and transportation. My Sundays are spend going to Yuscaran twice a month, church once a month, and Teen Challenge once a month. But, once Jesús can have visitors, I may try to go more often to Teen Challenge since I’ll be his only visitor. So, life is busy, and team season hasn’t even started yet! And, as I mentioned, Nati, Martha, and I have decided that we want to start going to the streets as often as possible to hand out food and start developing trust with the street kids. I already know some of them because of meeting them in 21, and it gives me a good opportunity to search for my sons who have escaped. The only deciding factor right now is money because we’re never going to go empty-handed. We always want to take food to give them, which costs money. We share the expenses, but sometimes, we just have to wait until we have the money to go. God has been so faithful with me though. I have found that the more I open my heart to love, the more I give of myself and my finances in faith, the more God gives me. He astounds me with not only His amazing provision but His amazing generosity that I often feel I don’t deserve. I’m also overjoyed to have people like Nati and Martha in my life who share the same heart and vision as I do. Words cannot express how healing it has been for me to be around them and to have true, Christian fellowship with them. They are some amazing, very special people who I love very much. Raúl and his family also continue to be one of my greatest support systems. Nahum has helped me greatly with my car, and I’ve gotten closer with Walter and Waldina as well. Raúl has met almost all of my sons, and he asks me about them, gives me advice in parenting them, and has been there for me to listen, to drive me to visit them, and to be the friend I so often need to feel like a normal 23-year-old when being a mom gets overwhelming. And, when we go places with my sons and his following (he always has at least one or two guys who are constantly under his wing), we just end up naturally helping each other financially and emotionally in parenting them. He’s protective and offers me perspectives I don’t always see, and I do the same for him. And, his following of guys often come to me for advice and to talk as well. Truly, for the first time in living here, I feel like I’m finally starting to get to do the things that have been my dreams since before moving here. It has all been a matter of God’s perfect way and timing. And, it is obvious why God sent me to work with Papi and Manos Extendidas because Papi Alvin and Mami Nelly teach me on a regular basis through their advice, experiences, and example. I want my heart of adoption to echo their heart, and I want my work to depict the same vision of selflessness and compassion that Papi and Mami have portrayed all of these years. I am incredibly blessed and proud to be learning from people who are so real and who so long to be like Jesus. Meanwhile, my Papi God is so good to me. While He asks much of me in being an adoptive mom, what He supplies to fulfill my needs and the needs of my sons and what He teaching me about His love through this unexpected motherhood doesn’t compare to anything that I give. The love I feel for my sons carries a weight and a depth that I never knew existed in love before. My heart to fight for them, to do whatever is necessary to show them I love them, and how proud and privileged I feel to be able to say that they’re my sons and know that they accept my adoption of them enough to call me their Mami as well is something I can only explain supernaturally. It’s a love that only God could have placed in my heart because it has a stamina and a strength that never could exist apart from Him. I look back at how I hid from four little neighbor boys because I was so overwhelmed, and I see just how many sons I have now. And I know how much God has healed my heart in the year plus that I’ve lived here and how He has taught me to open my heart without fear even in the face of heartache and rejection. It’s been a process that no one could have pushed to be completed within me except God, and going through my own process of opening my heart has given me hope and patience for the process of my sons and my loved ones around me. Thank you so much for reading, for your support, and for your prayers! Words cannot express my gratitude. And, know that if you’re ever interested in coming to Honduras to be a part of what we do, you are welcome! All of my love, Sarah |
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Embracing the Impossible and Receiving Miracles
Hello All,
It has been quite a while since I last updated, and in such a short time (as it always seems to be here), my life has turned upside down. To start, since we’re now in a new year, I’ll give you an update on some of the people who have been a reoccurring part of my story here.
Quendy: She returned to us with her five-month old baby just last month. She was ditched by her second live-in boyfriend. He brought her to our house and left her with her clothes. Since then, he has returned, repentant and wanting her back, but we’re fighting for Quendy’s life especially since this man has been physically abusive to her in the past. Quendy is learning how to live as a single woman, and she recently (with the help of Mami Nelly) started a small business making pastries to sell to people in our neighborhood. She’s done well so far, and the goal is to set her up living in a rented room with her brother.
Mayra: It has been fun watching Quendy and Mayra together again. Out of all of the girls, they’re the ones who have always been the most like sisters. And, no matter how much time passes (and the fact that Mayra is actually younger than Quendy), they resume their roles as big sister (Mayra) and little sister (Quendy) quite easily. Mayra is the little boss who helps Quendy with the pastry business. The goal is also push Mayra to be more independent financially as well. Currently, she is studying in the same high school she studied in before she ran away from the Eagle’s Nest. It’s amazing to see how much has changed and how fast time passes but to know that God is constantly working on them.
Claudia: We don’t really know anything about Claudia. She did call Raúl not too long ago (all of the girls still look to Raúl as their big brother for advice and support) and mentioned that she now had a baby.
Blanca: She is currently living with her grandmother again in the south of the country. She was in a center, Casa Alianza, and was studying. She has mentioned returning to the center, so it is possible that she already has.
Kimberli: She is living with her sister, Bessy, and brother-in-law, Carlitos. From what I understand, she is also studying. I see her from time to time at church.
Bladimir: After living with Raúl and working for him for nearly two months, he left of his own volition. Raúl had provided him with clothes, shoes, food, and a place to stay as well as a job and activities to occupy his time. But, Raúl’s obvious rule was that he wasn’t going to do drugs and live/work with him. Raúl had plenty of mercy and patience with him, but at the end of the day, Bladi didn’t want to conform to the rules and left. He now comes to Alvin and Nelly’s house for food and to visit often. I’m not really sure where he’s living, but he’s hanging around with Orlin and doing drugs. There’s still hope for this precious, lost little boy. Keep praying for him with us, please.
Orlin: Orlin was in a center for rehabilitation, Teen Challenge, where he was doing well. But, after roughly two months, he escaped. Now, he is living in our neighborhood again, doing drugs, and is rumored to be robbing people near the southern border (which given his new clothes and shoes and lack of job is probably accurate). He also comes to visit and to eat often, and we just keep praying for him and showing him love.
Estiven: Estiven is doing well working with Raúl. He lives in an apartment below his mom's house with his common law wife and daughter, Sherlley, who will be two-years-old next week. On the other side of the wall, in a separate room, lives Raúl. With Raúl’s help, he recently bought a motor bike. Spiritually, Estiven is still struggling, so please keep him in your prayers. But, I, for one, am proud of how he has remained clean of drugs after being in Teen Challenge due to a crack addiction and escaping after only a month. I know that if it wasn’t for Raúl’s presence and constant help, support, and discipleship in his life, he probably wouldn’t be doing as well as he is. Even though Raúl is also struggling spiritually, he has been a good influence on Estiven.
New Year's Eve spent with Raúl's family...Belkis (who also went to camp) and I
My Little Car
I spent my second New Year’s with Raúl and his extended family. I feel so blessed by their presence in my life. They continue to be my second family, and I am so grateful for them. At the end of the year, God also blessed me by providing the finances necessary to buy my own car. Words cannot express my gratitude to God for answering a prayer that had been uttered for over a year and had weighed especially on my heart as I wondered how I was going to keep track of all of my sons in their various directions without some form of transportation. I won’t lie—the car, a 1992 Toyota Tercel that I named Heidi, isn’t perfect although I still feel like she was a good deal from God. I’ve had to fix a fair share of things on her (with Papi Alvin’s help and fatherly protective oversight), but after waiting for over a year without a sense of independence or my own form of transportation, whatever happens with her or no matter what I have to fix, I still consider her to be a blessing. And, I have been further blessed to have such amazing men in my life who have helped me take care of my little car. Alvin has acted like my dad in loaning me the little extra money I didn’t have to buy the car. Nati took me to see the car and negotiated with the guy (so they wouldn’t charge me more since I’m a gringa). Raúl is just like my dad in constantly asking if I’ve checked the oil, the coolant, etc. And, as he has a business selling oil and tires, we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments because he won’t let me pay for oil or for changing a flat tire. (He’s actually driven my car more than I have since I’m still practicing with the stick-shift…she likes him better than she likes me. Sigh.) Nahum has been so amazing this week in helping me get all kinds of things fixed on my car, searching for the best mechanic and the cheapest prices on parts. His help and sacrifice of time have been huge blessings to me. What would I do without these wonderful men God’s blessed me with?
Becoming a Mom
That brings me to my 21 de Octubre sons. As I’ve mentioned previously in earlier blog posts, I first started adopting the boys in 21 in my heart after God told me during a weekend retreat in October, “Sarah, don’t hold back!” Since, I opened my heart wider to love them in a deeper, more long-term way, my world has turned upside down, and I’ve seen unexpected changes in them. But, up until just a couple weeks ago, that adoption was within limits. I was their mom within the walls of the center, 21 de Octubre. I was their mom when I went to Teen Challenge to visit some of my sons. But, at the end of the day, I could come home, hang the role of mom up like a hat, and rest from that responsibility within the comfort of my own home. Of course, my love for them didn’t make putting down that role very simple or easy. Truthfully, I was always thinking about my sons and praying for them, but there was still a level of separateness. In the past couple of weeks, that has changed drastically. But, these changes have occurred so naturally that it’s only now that I’m sitting down to think that I’m noticing how my journey into motherhood has taken a shift.
Joshua
It started with Joshua. I met Joshua around the time that Benjamin first started going to 21, probably close to September or October of last year. Truthfully, while I may have asked his name, I didn’t spend enough time with him to remember it before he escaped from the center. I believe only days later after escaping, Benjamin and I came across him and another boy who had escaped, Fredy. They were both high on glue and were wanting some lunch. So, Benjamin and I took them to lunch. I have a general personal rule that I never want to refuse food to someone who is hungry—high or sober, clean or dirty, angry or happy, old or young. I figured that since they were high that they weren’t going to remember that lunch, but to my surprise, when Joshua ended up back in 21 not too long after that encounter, he told all of the boys how he’d had lunch with us. Not long after that, Nati, Benjamin, and I saw him again high on the streets when we went with a team to hand out sandwiches. When I returned from camp, I was pretty heartbroken because most of the boys I’d gotten close to had escaped. It was almost saddening to go back to 21 because I had to start all over, learning names and building relationships, and my heart hurt because I missed the ones who had become so much like my sons. But, now, I can see that it was all for a purpose. And, I’m glad that I took my big brother, Nati’s, comment to heart when he said, “Yeah, it’s difficult, Sarah, to lose those who escaped. But, now you have to work with the ones who are still there.” And, it’s really just that simple. During this time that the ones I’d gotten close to have been gone, I was able to get close to others like Joshua who I had had conversations with but maybe not too in-depth.
When Joshua and I had talked, he had told me about his difficult home life, the bitterness he had in his heart toward his mom, and why he’d turned to the streets. But during this time he’s been in 21 (he’d been there numerous times before), God worked a miracle. The new psychologist at 21 (not the one I met when Benjamin and I first started going there who I’d thought was going to be a contact for me) is amazing. She is a Christian who fights for and defends the boys, which is so rare within the system. She hunted down Joshua’s mom, and they had numerous family counseling sessions. From her persistence and her compassion, Joshua and his mother were able to confront past issues, and he has chosen to forgive and give his mom a new chance. He told me one day, “I’m leaving soon. I’m going to live with my mom.” “How do you feel about that?” “Well, I don’t know. I wasn’t raised by my mom, but I want to give it a try. I want to make up for lost time. I’ve seen a change in her since she’s been visiting me, like she’s trying.” He expressed in this same conversation that he was going to study but that he was going to be one of three studying in high school with only his stepfather working. He was worried about being a financial burden. As we were discussing his needs, he looked up at me shyly and asked if I’d be willing to help just with buying his notebooks. During camp, God laid it on my heart strongly the desire to keep up with the boys who leave 21 because many of them decide they want to change, but when they leave, they have no support system or discipleship. I saw this as a perfect opportunity, so I told him that not only did I want to help with notebooks but I wanted to help with whatever his needs were if I could. But, I didn’t just want to give him something. I wanted to know how his grades were. I wanted to know if he needed tutoring. I wanted to know how his home life was going. I wanted to take him to church and Yuscaran with me if he wanted to go. I wanted to keep up with him. That was two weeks ago, and that change has brought my motherhood out of the walls of 21 and into a beautiful, wide open world.
I love this child more than I can express. There have been nights in the past couple of weeks where I haven’t been able to sleep because I’m thinking of or praying for my son. I’m excited to know that I get to start learning things about him that, as a second mom, I need to know—his favorite color, what foods he likes and dislikes, what his interests are, what his life was like before he met me, etc. And I’m terrified that I’m going to fail him. It is scary to have someone depending on me financially and spiritually and emotionally. But, God is teaching me so much about being a mom and about His own nature through this new, unexpected motherhood. I am starting to understand how He must feel as we disappoint Him or come running to Him or when we’re hurt. When my son is hurt, even when he’s not willing to admit it to me yet, my heart hurts in a way that it’s never hurt before. When my son is happy and is doing well, I experience a joy and fullness in my heart that I never knew existed before. I am so proud of him. He turns 16 on Monday, and I can’t wait to make a big deal out of his birthday. He and his sister went to church with me this past Sunday, and he plans to go to Yuscaran with me tomorrow. This is all still very new for me, and I’m clueless, but God’s teaching me little by little.
Jesús
There are some boys in 21 who, honestly, adopt me before I adopt them. I call them all my sons, but I don’t always feel that mom-son connection as quickly as they do. This was the case with Jesús who was in 21 for four months. When he first came, he couldn’t talk or walk or stand by himself because he was recuperating from being stabbed seven times and shot ten times. I met him because my son, John Alan, who is typically a very helpful person (and now in Teen Challenge), took on the task of being the one to carry him around. Honestly, though, I didn’t talk to him too often in the first couple of months because I had such a difficulty in understanding him. I’m not sure if it was due to the results of the attack or if he’s always talked this way, but he slurs his speech, speaking from the back of his throat, which for someone who is not a native Spanish speaker/listener is very difficult to understand. So, many of the conversations we had at first consisted of me just smiling and nodding because I didn’t understand. After a while, though, and especially in this time since I’ve been back from camp, he and I have spent a lot of time together—primarily because he came to me, seeking me out, calling me “mother,” and wanting love. During this time, I learned that his parents died when he was young, so he was raised by a neighbor who was like a father but who he calls his sponsor. He doesn’t know how old he is or when his birthday is although we guess that he’s around 17. He has studied very little in his life—up to second grade—and struggles to read and write even his own name. He worked a cement job where he used to live but got caught up in drugs and gang life on the weekends until he was addicted to crack. It was because of his gang involvement in his hometown, that has become an incredibly dangerous part of the country because of drug trafficking, that has was attacked by the rival gang. He cannot return to his hometown. It’s too dangerous. He was almost murdered, and if his attackers were to find out that he survived, I imagine they’d hunt him down.
Thus, in these months, everyone in the office at 21 was telling me to take him home with me and adopt him. As a single, young woman living on Alvin’s property in a small apartment, there is no way that I can take home an adolescent boy to raise. But, in learning that Jesús truly has no one, I began to weigh my options, especially once the psychologist let me know that I could sign to take him out of 21 and be responsible for him. After talking to the psychologist and Alvin, we all agreed that the best place for Jesús would be Teen Challenge. I knew that I could sign for him to come out, look for an apartment for him to rent, and help him find a job in cement work. But, I wouldn’t have the security that he wouldn’t fall back into drugs, wouldn’t get involved in the gang again, or return to his hometown where he’d likely be murdered. I couldn’t live with those risks. But Teen Challenge is a year-long rehab/Christian discipleship program, and I have seen amazing changes in the lives of my other sons who are there. So, the current hope is that after this year, God will have worked in his life in such a way that he will be able to stand firm and live on his own (with me keeping track of him) without falling back into his old lifestyle.
So, I started thinking about how I could help Jesús, and the only difficulty left was financial. It cost roughly $105 a month to send him to Teen Challenge. From what I can count on to come in from financial support monthly, I couldn’t afford that. So, I started thinking of how I could fundraise that, but God has also made it clear to me that He’s the provider of my needs. So, I don’t have His permission to go around pushing people to give me money or fundraising. I let people know about my prayer requests and the stories of those around me, but I personally never push people. If God touches someone’s heart, that is great, but if not, He will find another way to provide. So, while I was waiting on an answer financially, it became clear that God was asking me to step out in faith and say yes. I began to ask myself what I imagine will soon be a familiar question, “If this was my flesh-and-blood son, wouldn’t I do absolutely everything necessary or possible to help him? And, with the answer being yes, of course, how can I behave any differently with my adopted son?” The support I received this past month was more than I expected and enough to start Jesús at Teen Challenge, so I decided to obey and take it by faith month by month. As a typical human, after I’d said yes to the psychologist, and we’d started the process of his medical tests, etc. to enter the center, I began to try to figure out how I was financially going to make it work. I began to think of how I could cut financial corners within my own budget and expenses. “Well, I could stop eating lunch which would cut down on food/grocery costs, and I could stop calling home as often which would cut down on phone minutes costs…” But, realistically, even with those savings, it was going to be impossible without a miracle from God. So, I stopped thinking and just started praying. Within days of stepping out in faith, I had my answer—a dear friend was willing to sponsor him for six months. I was overjoyed. Then, days later, a family member decided to pay the remaining six months. Basically, within a week, God had taken care of the need for my son. What an amazing Father I have!
Thus, yesterday, I became an official mom by signing as the legal guardian responsible for Jesús to take him out of 21 and to put him into Teen Challenge. As we sat through the interview with the pastor from Teen Challenge, it hit me. “Who will be visiting him?” “Me.” “We like to elevate the boys’ self-esteem by having them dress sharply on visitation days, so he’ll need a nice shirt and tie.” “I can take care of that.” “Well, I need you to sign the paperwork here, Jesús.” He signed like a small child and didn’t put his last name (it wouldn’t have fit on the line anyway), so the pastor pushed the paperwork toward me to sign in my designated spot and said with a laugh, “Jesús Crickenberger.” And I had to smile because this proud mama liked the sound of that. And, once again, I haven’t been able to sleep at night because I’m wondering if he’s adjusting okay, if John has taken him under his wing, if he has a pillow to sleep on, where I should go to buy him a pair of shoes (since he has next to nothing) and if I’ll be able to figure out the right size, and I pray and pray and pray that God would rescue my baby. And I marvel at the weight of this responsibility and have to remind myself to be a child running to God myself to be refilled, to receive His wisdom, and to trust Him to father them.
Juliano
That was all just this week, and in the midst of running around doing errands to send Jesús off, I was presented with a second son to send to Teen Challenge, Juliano. I have known Juliano a year now. He was in 21 when I first started going a year ago and has been there about 11 times. He’s basically been raised in 21. He is tall and super skinny with a sweet yet quietly hurt disposition, and I love him more than I can express. He is 17 and comes from a family with a lot of drug-related problems. He was supposed to go to Teen Challenge before Christmas not long after John Alan went. However, the office closed for the holidays, so he was going to have to wait until January. His mom, who visits on a fairly regular basis, didn’t come visit him for Christmas or the visitation day after that. So, he got resentful and desperate, and once the opportunity presented itself, he escaped. He’s been on the streets up until a week ago, and when he ended up back in 21 after being picked up by the police, he looked awful. When I walked in, Jesús told me Juliano was back, but I didn’t believe him at first. When I saw him huddled by the window in a corner, I thought my heart would burst because I was so happy to see him. He was covered in knife cuts and bruises and sores. He was even skinnier because of not eating and because of the toll of his crack, marijuana, and paint thinner addictions. His eyes were so empty. He told me that he was almost killed right before he ended up back at 21. Someone put a knife to him, threatening to kill him, and later, someone shot at him numerous times but missed. I told him that I knew he’d been saved not just because God loves him, which He does, but also because God loves me and because I’ve been praying for him, my son ever since he escaped. I’d been begging God to have mercy and put angels around my son, and He did. Juliano’s starting to regain some life again, but his heart remains so hurt.
Hermano Charlie and I have been encouraging him to go to Teen Challenge, but he’s been reluctant. But, when I talked to the psychologist, she let me know that the family member who was going to financially sponsor him to go is no longer willing. So, she asked me, knowing at this time that God had provided the provision for six months for Jesús, if I’d be willing to sponsor Juliano by faith as well. If my faith had been sufficient enough for Jesús, how could it be any different for Juliano? If I love this boy just like my son, how could I say no? So, I said yes, knowing that at the end of six months, if God didn’t work a miracle, it would be my responsibility to pay for not just one boy but two, which is nearly all that I can count on to receive in a month of support. But, within two days, God had provided various people willing to sponsor Juliano as well. Now, the battle is spiritual. He and I have talked, and I told him that as soon as he says the word, I’ll put him in Teen Challenge. But, he feels confused. He wants to go back home to his family, but they’re drug addicts which means he’ll fall into the same situation. This child, honestly, is going to die if he doesn’t get help. He’s going to overdose, kill his body over time with drugs, or he’s going to be murdered on the streets. As his adopted mom, I’m not going to stand for any of those. But, he has to want help, and until he does, I can’t help him. So, please keep my son in prayer. The call on his life is huge, but the damage to his heart is pretty devastating right now. I know that God can heal him, but he needs some hope for a future which only God can provide.
In the middle of all of this, God brought me to a simple verse that has struck me profoundly:
Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins. - James 4:17
A lot of times as Christians, we think that if we're not doing the typical, sinful stuff, that we're doing okay. But this verse makes it clear that even when we refuse to do the good that God is nudging us to do through His Holy Spirit, we're sinning. God asks us to do the impossible. Every single one of His commands is impossible without the miraculous power of His Son, Jesus, and presence of the Holy Spirit within us. But, that's the point. He asks us to do the impossible because it makes us depend on Him, and our faith makes it possible for Him to give us miracles.
I have more to update you on, but this post is long enough, and it’s getting late. So, I’ll save it for another day. Thank you all so much for your prayers, your support, and for reading. I so appreciate your keeping up with me and being a part of the story of my little life.
All of my love,
Sarah
It has been quite a while since I last updated, and in such a short time (as it always seems to be here), my life has turned upside down. To start, since we’re now in a new year, I’ll give you an update on some of the people who have been a reoccurring part of my story here.
Quendy: She returned to us with her five-month old baby just last month. She was ditched by her second live-in boyfriend. He brought her to our house and left her with her clothes. Since then, he has returned, repentant and wanting her back, but we’re fighting for Quendy’s life especially since this man has been physically abusive to her in the past. Quendy is learning how to live as a single woman, and she recently (with the help of Mami Nelly) started a small business making pastries to sell to people in our neighborhood. She’s done well so far, and the goal is to set her up living in a rented room with her brother.
Mayra: It has been fun watching Quendy and Mayra together again. Out of all of the girls, they’re the ones who have always been the most like sisters. And, no matter how much time passes (and the fact that Mayra is actually younger than Quendy), they resume their roles as big sister (Mayra) and little sister (Quendy) quite easily. Mayra is the little boss who helps Quendy with the pastry business. The goal is also push Mayra to be more independent financially as well. Currently, she is studying in the same high school she studied in before she ran away from the Eagle’s Nest. It’s amazing to see how much has changed and how fast time passes but to know that God is constantly working on them.
Claudia: We don’t really know anything about Claudia. She did call Raúl not too long ago (all of the girls still look to Raúl as their big brother for advice and support) and mentioned that she now had a baby.
Blanca: She is currently living with her grandmother again in the south of the country. She was in a center, Casa Alianza, and was studying. She has mentioned returning to the center, so it is possible that she already has.
Kimberli: She is living with her sister, Bessy, and brother-in-law, Carlitos. From what I understand, she is also studying. I see her from time to time at church.
Bladimir: After living with Raúl and working for him for nearly two months, he left of his own volition. Raúl had provided him with clothes, shoes, food, and a place to stay as well as a job and activities to occupy his time. But, Raúl’s obvious rule was that he wasn’t going to do drugs and live/work with him. Raúl had plenty of mercy and patience with him, but at the end of the day, Bladi didn’t want to conform to the rules and left. He now comes to Alvin and Nelly’s house for food and to visit often. I’m not really sure where he’s living, but he’s hanging around with Orlin and doing drugs. There’s still hope for this precious, lost little boy. Keep praying for him with us, please.
Orlin: Orlin was in a center for rehabilitation, Teen Challenge, where he was doing well. But, after roughly two months, he escaped. Now, he is living in our neighborhood again, doing drugs, and is rumored to be robbing people near the southern border (which given his new clothes and shoes and lack of job is probably accurate). He also comes to visit and to eat often, and we just keep praying for him and showing him love.
Estiven: Estiven is doing well working with Raúl. He lives in an apartment below his mom's house with his common law wife and daughter, Sherlley, who will be two-years-old next week. On the other side of the wall, in a separate room, lives Raúl. With Raúl’s help, he recently bought a motor bike. Spiritually, Estiven is still struggling, so please keep him in your prayers. But, I, for one, am proud of how he has remained clean of drugs after being in Teen Challenge due to a crack addiction and escaping after only a month. I know that if it wasn’t for Raúl’s presence and constant help, support, and discipleship in his life, he probably wouldn’t be doing as well as he is. Even though Raúl is also struggling spiritually, he has been a good influence on Estiven.
New Year's Eve spent with Raúl's family...Belkis (who also went to camp) and I
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| Sara, Belkis' sister, and I |
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Roy and his mom, Mami Sonia
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I spent my second New Year’s with Raúl and his extended family. I feel so blessed by their presence in my life. They continue to be my second family, and I am so grateful for them. At the end of the year, God also blessed me by providing the finances necessary to buy my own car. Words cannot express my gratitude to God for answering a prayer that had been uttered for over a year and had weighed especially on my heart as I wondered how I was going to keep track of all of my sons in their various directions without some form of transportation. I won’t lie—the car, a 1992 Toyota Tercel that I named Heidi, isn’t perfect although I still feel like she was a good deal from God. I’ve had to fix a fair share of things on her (with Papi Alvin’s help and fatherly protective oversight), but after waiting for over a year without a sense of independence or my own form of transportation, whatever happens with her or no matter what I have to fix, I still consider her to be a blessing. And, I have been further blessed to have such amazing men in my life who have helped me take care of my little car. Alvin has acted like my dad in loaning me the little extra money I didn’t have to buy the car. Nati took me to see the car and negotiated with the guy (so they wouldn’t charge me more since I’m a gringa). Raúl is just like my dad in constantly asking if I’ve checked the oil, the coolant, etc. And, as he has a business selling oil and tires, we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments because he won’t let me pay for oil or for changing a flat tire. (He’s actually driven my car more than I have since I’m still practicing with the stick-shift…she likes him better than she likes me. Sigh.) Nahum has been so amazing this week in helping me get all kinds of things fixed on my car, searching for the best mechanic and the cheapest prices on parts. His help and sacrifice of time have been huge blessings to me. What would I do without these wonderful men God’s blessed me with?
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| My little car, Heidi, a 1992 Toyota Tercel |
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Nahum (my big brother) and Raúl, two of my favorites
Back to Camp—Seven Years of Adventures The second week of the year, I headed to a camp for children with the ministry APEN. I was invited by the daughters of one of the families who goes to Yuscaran to help, and I was a helper to a counselor with eight 12 to 13-year-old girls for a week. After spending most of this year working with 12 to 17-year-old boys, it was a definite change of pace for me, but it was great. I was glad to be out of my normal routine and environment and felt so blessed by all of the people surrounding me. God did some very cool things in the lives of our campers, and He did some amazing things in my life as well. Because the theme was “Missionaries for Christ,” I was given a chance to share with everyone at the camp about how I first felt called to be a missionary. In preparing to speak, God really began to remind me of the testimonies of His goodness in a time when I was so spiritually exhausted and just barely holding on to the hope for something new. I first felt called to missions while working at a camp with World Vision very similar to the one I was at with APEN. It was a Wednesday, just like on the day I spoke, that a man was sharing a message with the campers about how many people in the world had never even heard the name of Jesus, how much poverty there is in the world, and how vital missions are. It’s not like I didn’t have some idea about missions because I’d grown up in a house where missions had always been really important, but it wasn’t until this night that I felt God touch my heart. I was 17, and I had just been brought to a place of surrendering something that had become the dearest thing to my heart. At that time, my greatest dream was something normal—go to college, be a teacher, write books, get married, have kids, have a house, live comfortably, and serve God by working with young people in a church. But, this night, through this total stranger’s message, my eyes were opened to the radical needs in the world. So, I prayed a simple prayer, “God, You have all of my life. You have all of my dreams. You can do whatever You want with my life. I want to live for Your dreams, not mine.” That simple prayer turned my world upside down. Seven months later (which was a financial miracle especially as I was worried about how I was going to pay for college anyway), I was in Honduras for the first time, and my life has never been the same since. That was seven years ago, and absolutely nothing in my life has turned out as I originally planned. Even the dreams that God has given me thus far have not come to pass how I thought they would. But, everything in my life has turned out infinitely better than anything I ever could have dreamed. In remembering everything that God has done in my life over the past seven years, I felt like God was telling me that the dreams He has for me are always bigger than my own. I won’t lie—I’ve struggled a lot since I’ve moved here with trying to figure out how God’s perfect plan is going to unfold in my life instead of just letting it happen. When I build up expectations of how I think it’s all supposed to work, I just get discouraged when circumstances aren’t going in that direction. Meanwhile, God is graciously leading me in how He has it all planned, even when I’m obeying reluctantly (like a stubborn, doubtful child throwing a temper tantrum). At camp, I felt God nudging me to let go of how I thought it logically was supposed to work in order to rest, trust in His goodness, and open up my heart to His grander dreams. So, when I returned, I did (not immediately, I won’t lie), and as has been the case every time God has brought me to surrender what had become the dearest thing to my heart, my surrender released a huge change in my life. Truly, my world has once again turned upside down in such a beautiful way. I’m so grateful that God brought me out of my element to expand my perspective and to challenge me to dream with Him. |
That brings me to my 21 de Octubre sons. As I’ve mentioned previously in earlier blog posts, I first started adopting the boys in 21 in my heart after God told me during a weekend retreat in October, “Sarah, don’t hold back!” Since, I opened my heart wider to love them in a deeper, more long-term way, my world has turned upside down, and I’ve seen unexpected changes in them. But, up until just a couple weeks ago, that adoption was within limits. I was their mom within the walls of the center, 21 de Octubre. I was their mom when I went to Teen Challenge to visit some of my sons. But, at the end of the day, I could come home, hang the role of mom up like a hat, and rest from that responsibility within the comfort of my own home. Of course, my love for them didn’t make putting down that role very simple or easy. Truthfully, I was always thinking about my sons and praying for them, but there was still a level of separateness. In the past couple of weeks, that has changed drastically. But, these changes have occurred so naturally that it’s only now that I’m sitting down to think that I’m noticing how my journey into motherhood has taken a shift.
Joshua
It started with Joshua. I met Joshua around the time that Benjamin first started going to 21, probably close to September or October of last year. Truthfully, while I may have asked his name, I didn’t spend enough time with him to remember it before he escaped from the center. I believe only days later after escaping, Benjamin and I came across him and another boy who had escaped, Fredy. They were both high on glue and were wanting some lunch. So, Benjamin and I took them to lunch. I have a general personal rule that I never want to refuse food to someone who is hungry—high or sober, clean or dirty, angry or happy, old or young. I figured that since they were high that they weren’t going to remember that lunch, but to my surprise, when Joshua ended up back in 21 not too long after that encounter, he told all of the boys how he’d had lunch with us. Not long after that, Nati, Benjamin, and I saw him again high on the streets when we went with a team to hand out sandwiches. When I returned from camp, I was pretty heartbroken because most of the boys I’d gotten close to had escaped. It was almost saddening to go back to 21 because I had to start all over, learning names and building relationships, and my heart hurt because I missed the ones who had become so much like my sons. But, now, I can see that it was all for a purpose. And, I’m glad that I took my big brother, Nati’s, comment to heart when he said, “Yeah, it’s difficult, Sarah, to lose those who escaped. But, now you have to work with the ones who are still there.” And, it’s really just that simple. During this time that the ones I’d gotten close to have been gone, I was able to get close to others like Joshua who I had had conversations with but maybe not too in-depth.
When Joshua and I had talked, he had told me about his difficult home life, the bitterness he had in his heart toward his mom, and why he’d turned to the streets. But during this time he’s been in 21 (he’d been there numerous times before), God worked a miracle. The new psychologist at 21 (not the one I met when Benjamin and I first started going there who I’d thought was going to be a contact for me) is amazing. She is a Christian who fights for and defends the boys, which is so rare within the system. She hunted down Joshua’s mom, and they had numerous family counseling sessions. From her persistence and her compassion, Joshua and his mother were able to confront past issues, and he has chosen to forgive and give his mom a new chance. He told me one day, “I’m leaving soon. I’m going to live with my mom.” “How do you feel about that?” “Well, I don’t know. I wasn’t raised by my mom, but I want to give it a try. I want to make up for lost time. I’ve seen a change in her since she’s been visiting me, like she’s trying.” He expressed in this same conversation that he was going to study but that he was going to be one of three studying in high school with only his stepfather working. He was worried about being a financial burden. As we were discussing his needs, he looked up at me shyly and asked if I’d be willing to help just with buying his notebooks. During camp, God laid it on my heart strongly the desire to keep up with the boys who leave 21 because many of them decide they want to change, but when they leave, they have no support system or discipleship. I saw this as a perfect opportunity, so I told him that not only did I want to help with notebooks but I wanted to help with whatever his needs were if I could. But, I didn’t just want to give him something. I wanted to know how his grades were. I wanted to know if he needed tutoring. I wanted to know how his home life was going. I wanted to take him to church and Yuscaran with me if he wanted to go. I wanted to keep up with him. That was two weeks ago, and that change has brought my motherhood out of the walls of 21 and into a beautiful, wide open world.
I love this child more than I can express. There have been nights in the past couple of weeks where I haven’t been able to sleep because I’m thinking of or praying for my son. I’m excited to know that I get to start learning things about him that, as a second mom, I need to know—his favorite color, what foods he likes and dislikes, what his interests are, what his life was like before he met me, etc. And I’m terrified that I’m going to fail him. It is scary to have someone depending on me financially and spiritually and emotionally. But, God is teaching me so much about being a mom and about His own nature through this new, unexpected motherhood. I am starting to understand how He must feel as we disappoint Him or come running to Him or when we’re hurt. When my son is hurt, even when he’s not willing to admit it to me yet, my heart hurts in a way that it’s never hurt before. When my son is happy and is doing well, I experience a joy and fullness in my heart that I never knew existed before. I am so proud of him. He turns 16 on Monday, and I can’t wait to make a big deal out of his birthday. He and his sister went to church with me this past Sunday, and he plans to go to Yuscaran with me tomorrow. This is all still very new for me, and I’m clueless, but God’s teaching me little by little.
Jesús
There are some boys in 21 who, honestly, adopt me before I adopt them. I call them all my sons, but I don’t always feel that mom-son connection as quickly as they do. This was the case with Jesús who was in 21 for four months. When he first came, he couldn’t talk or walk or stand by himself because he was recuperating from being stabbed seven times and shot ten times. I met him because my son, John Alan, who is typically a very helpful person (and now in Teen Challenge), took on the task of being the one to carry him around. Honestly, though, I didn’t talk to him too often in the first couple of months because I had such a difficulty in understanding him. I’m not sure if it was due to the results of the attack or if he’s always talked this way, but he slurs his speech, speaking from the back of his throat, which for someone who is not a native Spanish speaker/listener is very difficult to understand. So, many of the conversations we had at first consisted of me just smiling and nodding because I didn’t understand. After a while, though, and especially in this time since I’ve been back from camp, he and I have spent a lot of time together—primarily because he came to me, seeking me out, calling me “mother,” and wanting love. During this time, I learned that his parents died when he was young, so he was raised by a neighbor who was like a father but who he calls his sponsor. He doesn’t know how old he is or when his birthday is although we guess that he’s around 17. He has studied very little in his life—up to second grade—and struggles to read and write even his own name. He worked a cement job where he used to live but got caught up in drugs and gang life on the weekends until he was addicted to crack. It was because of his gang involvement in his hometown, that has become an incredibly dangerous part of the country because of drug trafficking, that has was attacked by the rival gang. He cannot return to his hometown. It’s too dangerous. He was almost murdered, and if his attackers were to find out that he survived, I imagine they’d hunt him down.
Thus, in these months, everyone in the office at 21 was telling me to take him home with me and adopt him. As a single, young woman living on Alvin’s property in a small apartment, there is no way that I can take home an adolescent boy to raise. But, in learning that Jesús truly has no one, I began to weigh my options, especially once the psychologist let me know that I could sign to take him out of 21 and be responsible for him. After talking to the psychologist and Alvin, we all agreed that the best place for Jesús would be Teen Challenge. I knew that I could sign for him to come out, look for an apartment for him to rent, and help him find a job in cement work. But, I wouldn’t have the security that he wouldn’t fall back into drugs, wouldn’t get involved in the gang again, or return to his hometown where he’d likely be murdered. I couldn’t live with those risks. But Teen Challenge is a year-long rehab/Christian discipleship program, and I have seen amazing changes in the lives of my other sons who are there. So, the current hope is that after this year, God will have worked in his life in such a way that he will be able to stand firm and live on his own (with me keeping track of him) without falling back into his old lifestyle.
So, I started thinking about how I could help Jesús, and the only difficulty left was financial. It cost roughly $105 a month to send him to Teen Challenge. From what I can count on to come in from financial support monthly, I couldn’t afford that. So, I started thinking of how I could fundraise that, but God has also made it clear to me that He’s the provider of my needs. So, I don’t have His permission to go around pushing people to give me money or fundraising. I let people know about my prayer requests and the stories of those around me, but I personally never push people. If God touches someone’s heart, that is great, but if not, He will find another way to provide. So, while I was waiting on an answer financially, it became clear that God was asking me to step out in faith and say yes. I began to ask myself what I imagine will soon be a familiar question, “If this was my flesh-and-blood son, wouldn’t I do absolutely everything necessary or possible to help him? And, with the answer being yes, of course, how can I behave any differently with my adopted son?” The support I received this past month was more than I expected and enough to start Jesús at Teen Challenge, so I decided to obey and take it by faith month by month. As a typical human, after I’d said yes to the psychologist, and we’d started the process of his medical tests, etc. to enter the center, I began to try to figure out how I was financially going to make it work. I began to think of how I could cut financial corners within my own budget and expenses. “Well, I could stop eating lunch which would cut down on food/grocery costs, and I could stop calling home as often which would cut down on phone minutes costs…” But, realistically, even with those savings, it was going to be impossible without a miracle from God. So, I stopped thinking and just started praying. Within days of stepping out in faith, I had my answer—a dear friend was willing to sponsor him for six months. I was overjoyed. Then, days later, a family member decided to pay the remaining six months. Basically, within a week, God had taken care of the need for my son. What an amazing Father I have!
Thus, yesterday, I became an official mom by signing as the legal guardian responsible for Jesús to take him out of 21 and to put him into Teen Challenge. As we sat through the interview with the pastor from Teen Challenge, it hit me. “Who will be visiting him?” “Me.” “We like to elevate the boys’ self-esteem by having them dress sharply on visitation days, so he’ll need a nice shirt and tie.” “I can take care of that.” “Well, I need you to sign the paperwork here, Jesús.” He signed like a small child and didn’t put his last name (it wouldn’t have fit on the line anyway), so the pastor pushed the paperwork toward me to sign in my designated spot and said with a laugh, “Jesús Crickenberger.” And I had to smile because this proud mama liked the sound of that. And, once again, I haven’t been able to sleep at night because I’m wondering if he’s adjusting okay, if John has taken him under his wing, if he has a pillow to sleep on, where I should go to buy him a pair of shoes (since he has next to nothing) and if I’ll be able to figure out the right size, and I pray and pray and pray that God would rescue my baby. And I marvel at the weight of this responsibility and have to remind myself to be a child running to God myself to be refilled, to receive His wisdom, and to trust Him to father them.
Juliano
That was all just this week, and in the midst of running around doing errands to send Jesús off, I was presented with a second son to send to Teen Challenge, Juliano. I have known Juliano a year now. He was in 21 when I first started going a year ago and has been there about 11 times. He’s basically been raised in 21. He is tall and super skinny with a sweet yet quietly hurt disposition, and I love him more than I can express. He is 17 and comes from a family with a lot of drug-related problems. He was supposed to go to Teen Challenge before Christmas not long after John Alan went. However, the office closed for the holidays, so he was going to have to wait until January. His mom, who visits on a fairly regular basis, didn’t come visit him for Christmas or the visitation day after that. So, he got resentful and desperate, and once the opportunity presented itself, he escaped. He’s been on the streets up until a week ago, and when he ended up back in 21 after being picked up by the police, he looked awful. When I walked in, Jesús told me Juliano was back, but I didn’t believe him at first. When I saw him huddled by the window in a corner, I thought my heart would burst because I was so happy to see him. He was covered in knife cuts and bruises and sores. He was even skinnier because of not eating and because of the toll of his crack, marijuana, and paint thinner addictions. His eyes were so empty. He told me that he was almost killed right before he ended up back at 21. Someone put a knife to him, threatening to kill him, and later, someone shot at him numerous times but missed. I told him that I knew he’d been saved not just because God loves him, which He does, but also because God loves me and because I’ve been praying for him, my son ever since he escaped. I’d been begging God to have mercy and put angels around my son, and He did. Juliano’s starting to regain some life again, but his heart remains so hurt.
Hermano Charlie and I have been encouraging him to go to Teen Challenge, but he’s been reluctant. But, when I talked to the psychologist, she let me know that the family member who was going to financially sponsor him to go is no longer willing. So, she asked me, knowing at this time that God had provided the provision for six months for Jesús, if I’d be willing to sponsor Juliano by faith as well. If my faith had been sufficient enough for Jesús, how could it be any different for Juliano? If I love this boy just like my son, how could I say no? So, I said yes, knowing that at the end of six months, if God didn’t work a miracle, it would be my responsibility to pay for not just one boy but two, which is nearly all that I can count on to receive in a month of support. But, within two days, God had provided various people willing to sponsor Juliano as well. Now, the battle is spiritual. He and I have talked, and I told him that as soon as he says the word, I’ll put him in Teen Challenge. But, he feels confused. He wants to go back home to his family, but they’re drug addicts which means he’ll fall into the same situation. This child, honestly, is going to die if he doesn’t get help. He’s going to overdose, kill his body over time with drugs, or he’s going to be murdered on the streets. As his adopted mom, I’m not going to stand for any of those. But, he has to want help, and until he does, I can’t help him. So, please keep my son in prayer. The call on his life is huge, but the damage to his heart is pretty devastating right now. I know that God can heal him, but he needs some hope for a future which only God can provide.
In the middle of all of this, God brought me to a simple verse that has struck me profoundly:
Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins. - James 4:17
A lot of times as Christians, we think that if we're not doing the typical, sinful stuff, that we're doing okay. But this verse makes it clear that even when we refuse to do the good that God is nudging us to do through His Holy Spirit, we're sinning. God asks us to do the impossible. Every single one of His commands is impossible without the miraculous power of His Son, Jesus, and presence of the Holy Spirit within us. But, that's the point. He asks us to do the impossible because it makes us depend on Him, and our faith makes it possible for Him to give us miracles.
I have more to update you on, but this post is long enough, and it’s getting late. So, I’ll save it for another day. Thank you all so much for your prayers, your support, and for reading. I so appreciate your keeping up with me and being a part of the story of my little life.
All of my love,
Sarah
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