Another Taste of Heaven.....

This past weekend marks the 22nd year that my family has been gathering at the lake.  Along with Christmas, this is my most favourite time of year.  It's an opportunity to play and enjoy the beauty of  Gods amazing creation.  As we were driving to the city to renew our pass ports Friday, I was thinking of my family back home making the long trip up to Thannet Lake.  Piled in a bus with our kids, I tried to hide my sadness.  I silently cried for the time lost.  Going to the lake is my most favourite place to reconnect with God, family and nature.  For me, it is a taste of heaven.  Little did I know what God had in store.

This lady dyed her threads and wove this fabric in 3 weeks

We decided to make a trip as a family. Our fist big trip away from Jalapa that involved a night at a hotel.   A much needed break from the 24 hr a day, 7 day a week work that many of you can relate to in any type of ministry.  It was a time for us to reconnect with God, each other and nature.  I felt like I was trapped in a movie.  Almost like a scene from The Lord of the Rings.  Words cannot even begin to describe the beauty.  We climbed into a boat and took it across the lake to a village where they made pottery and material.  It was the first ever boat ride for our girls.  It was so worth seeing them giggle and laugh as we put the life jackets on.  A lady met us on shore and walked us up through her village to her home.  It was there we saw her tiny workshop.  She showed us her loom and hand made  clothes.  She showed me the thread she dyed and the different patterns and methods she uses. Her place was rustic yet kept.  With our girl's business in mind, we are always looking for exceptional products.  I love knowing where we are buying our product from and seeing the work that goes into it.  There is so much respect for the women and men that work long hours using their hands to create. What's so discouraging is buying.  I totally feel like their time is worth so much more than what it is "sold" for.  With the materials bought, our girls have started their own little project sewing handbags, table cloths, table runners and making jewelry.
It is somewhat overwhelming with all the vendors trying to make sales for the day.  I guess thats why I appreciated visiting this tiny village because it was off the beaten path.  Matt was approached by a little girl to buy some card stock.  After declining a few times, she started speaking english to him.  Matt thought he would test her out a little to see just how much she knew.  He was more than impressed when she was able to keep up in conversation.  We know just how hard it is to learn another language.  Matt asked if she studied and she told him that she worked the market with her mom and picked up english by listening and speaking in the streets.  She is the same age as Mercedes.  With a soft spot and impressed demeanour, Matt bought her cards.
As we climbed back up the mountain to head back to Jalapa yesterday,  I felt like God showed me another piece of heaven and was reminded that He has so much more He wants to show me if I am willing to go.  "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters where you would call me, take me deeper than my feet could ever wander and my faith would be made stronger in the presence of my Saviour"

our little hershey kiss

Gabe at the shores of San Pedro

these two bought matching hats

My favourite 30 mins of the trip ... alone at the water.

The little girl who sold Matt the cards. She turns 9 this November.

our 5 beautiful foster girls

sleepless night

This girl handed me a crumpled piece of paper
 thanking me for thinking of them

 It's 3:30 am and I can't sleep.  I'm exhausted but can't turn my mind off.  Maybe its the constant pitter patter of the dog that lives on our rooftop or the annoying rooster that seems to think its cool to to sing his wake up call at all hours of the night.  It could be the rustling of Lilly banging around in her crib from time to time in her restless sleep, or the hum of traffic that flows periodically in front of our house when really it feels like its coming through my house.  Or maybe... just maybe this is as quiet as its going to get and this is my opportunity to write some.

I never use to get headaches.  I get them all the time here in Guatemala.  I think it's the constant noise or smell of diesel fumes but it could be the fact that I have 8 children in a cement house that has no sound proofing.  A hushed whisper can almost be heard in the next room.   Privacy is hard to come by and Matt and I have to get creative.  

I cut hair in a school on the outskirts of Jalapa today. The line of kids was endless.  At first they were shy but by the end of my time there they were practically hanging off me.  From the smell and looks of their hair, I'd be surprised if they washed it in awhile.  Full of lice and dust I wondered how many of them actually had water at home.  Some had such brittle hair it felt like it was breaking as I combed through it.  A sign of malnutrition and poor diet. I have seen this before here when we visited families living in the dump. I came home feeling pissed. The director thanked me as I left and handed me a list of names.  About 20 names of kids who came from extreme cases of poverty.  Multiple kid families, single moms with no income, sharing a one room smoke filled shack... barely walls and a roof to call it that.  Dads, if in the picture spending all the money for the day on booze to ease an addiction or block out the pain of their reality, leaving the kids bellies empty.  I was pleasantly surprised to see the kids eating some breakfast while I was there.  The government does provide a program that reaches eligible schools, but only if the school can get the funding do these kids get fed.  Because there is a lot of corruption here most often the money for government programs doesn't always get to the places it needs to go.  What does come through is minimal, but everything counts.  I left feeling overwhelmingly hopeless...angry and sad.  Yet the smiles on their faces were nothing short of thankfulness.  

I struggle with being a materialistic missionary.  I'm ok to go out and roll up my sleeves and get a little dirty  but feel "safe" with the luxuries of my comfort.  What would it be like to risk it all?  I argue in my mind.. yeah but they don't really know any different so they wouldn't understand..... I'm mistaken.... I find joy in good food, hot showers, entertainment and luxuries like colouring my hair.  They have a joy that no material possession can fill or no one can take from them ... really who is the one that is more poor?  I think of the story of the rich man and how Jesus asked him to sell everything he had and come and follow Him.   Jesus walked away sad... how many times has He felt sad over my inability to fully surrender my life to Him.

 Don't you ever wonder why in the world Jesus would step down from a kingdom to live a selfless life on earth...knowing full well what humanity is like.. being rejected, tossed out, ridiculed... yet He still came.. He came to surrender His life for a higher calling.  I sometimes wonder if I knew what I know now would I have ever come.  I would like to say yes but in my selfishness and lack of faith, I know I would have to think and rethink and think some more about it all.  And then there's this tiny voice inside that constantly reminds me of the short term that we have on this earth.

Ella

Being away from family is hard enough most days.  Knowing that birthdays come and go, traditional holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas pass on by from one year to the next.  But this is  much different, something harder yet.  Knowing that family is gathered to say goodbye and celebrate a life well lived.

We had the opportunity last fall to spend a little time with grandma.  We all knew that it was just a matter of time for her to go home to be with her Lord.  She has been ready for a long time.  Trapped in a decaying, broken down body yet with a sharp mind.   In fact, as we walked out of her home that chilly fall day, we blew kisses and said we'll see you again, knowing full well we meant heaven.  

Going to grandmas always meant you were eating whether  you liked it or not.  Even if you had just come from a large meal or were on your way to one, it didn't matter.  She would pull out at no stops all the food in her refrigerator and set the table.  The food often was .. let's just say questionable.   You see grandma was very frugal.  She survived the great depression, saw wars come and go, came from a family of 18 children, and worked hard for what they earned.   Nothing and I mean nothing went to waste.   As the dishes of food passed on by she would encourage... i mean ..make you eat all the while she would sit back and just watch.  She would never eat herself.  I think that's why she stayed so tiny.

Tiny with a lot of fight... that was grandma.   I think she found pure enjoyment in serving and providing.   And she did just that.   As she lay,
dying in her last days, hours and moments, she was surrounded by her 7 children singing hymns as Jesus was waiting to take her by the hand into His kingdom.  Where the old will be made new!

lost and found

You call me out upon the waters.......where the waters are deep, dark and unknown.  I gaze down at my reflection and see your face precious Jesus.  I see your arm outstretched toward me, wanting for me to reach out to grab your hold.  This past week I grabbed tighter than ever to my Saviours hand as I looked into the eyes of the enemy and seen darkness in a soul.  An emptiness that was so vast and haunting.
Matt and I made national news in Guatemala last week over the story of a young "Canadian" woman who was attacked and almost lynched in a nearby mountainous village.  Knowing we are Canadian, we were called into the police station to act as a support for this terrified girl.   Trying to decipher if the behaviour we saw was post traumatic stress or mental illness, we stood and silently prayed before agreeing to take this girl home for the night.   A police officer was to be stationed in our house for the following 24 hours for protection for this girl.   It was very apparent soon after we returned home that something was not adding up and the story was changing... quickly.  I was starting to feel like the protection was needed for my family. As she walked around my house, muttering words and chants, I followed not too far behind praying for God to fill every part of our home and protect us.  I don't know who the police officer thought was more crazy. I sat in the garage to talk and wasn't getting very far.  I asked what she was running from.  It was in that moment I stared into the darkest eyes, an emptiness I have never seen.  Matt started doing a little of his own investigation as we clearly were confused with the information given.  In a matter of four hours, we discovered this was not a Canadian but a missing person report had been filed from Oregon last August. A troubled young girl who had a series of encounters with police in various states.   Caught and shrieking in panic she was held in our front gate area which made for a make shift jail.  I prayed for her. I prayed that that only God would set her free. That she may have been lost but there is a chance to be found in Christ.  Last saturday  I stood confidently and fearlessly in my kitchen and told the enemy there was no room in our house, in our mission, in our lives for him.  And  in that moment I felt the most beautiful presence of my Saviour.  I knew He had a hold of my hand.  He is bringing my faith to new levels.  As the water may seem too deep, too dark and unknown, I know to keep looking up to his arms.

Do you ever wonder if you are doing the right thing?

Mercedes teaching the toddlers
at the safe house a new game.

When we first got started on this whole missionary life back in 2009, we have often struggled with where we need to be.  So many opportunities come our way each day, many of which are small with no lasting impact but on the rare occasion we face big ones.  For Mandy and I, coming to Guatemala was a three year process in which we fought about where our purpose was in God's plan for us and our children.  Through lots of prayer and discernment, we feel that we are supposed to be here and working with these awesome yet unwanted children.

 I personally struggle  playing my own devil's advocate.  Unquestionably, I feel that working in Guatemala is our calling but what that work entails is not always so clear.  Many days I pray to be productive or to find the right combination of 'works' to 'relationship'.  What provides a better eternal impact?  Giving to those in need? Being with those in need? Both?

Taking on five girls full time in our home has
presented some challenges (to say the least).

How does someone wade through all of the problems in the world and find one that they need to "fix" when so many problems are presented?  For example, the children at the safe house need decent food, shelter, water, and a spiritual education.  All of which we have been providing.  However, some are learning English in school and need some support, babies need to be given more attention, some kids have speech therapy appointments, others want to learn how to craft, all of them need to get exercise and time out of the house, they need spiritual mentors, etc.  Realistically I know we can't be all things to all people.  Mandy and I are pulled in different directions to do what is 'best' for our family.  Admittedly, we have made many mistakes and have questioned ourselves in the decision making process.

My parents with Gabe and Mercedes ready
to do some trick or treating.

To answer the blog title, I do not always think we are doing the right thing, but we do strive to do the best at what we can.  I remember a conversation with my parents a couple years back while we were getting ready to go out for Halloween.  Mom and Dad made a decision when I was about nine years old to stop going out for Halloween.  Talk about torture, watching your friends enjoy the evening of collecting candy while we went to the mall to avoid the costumed kids knocking at our door.  However, 24 years later my parents got dressed up at my house with my kids and went out to enjoy the evening of collecting treats.  During that night, I jabbed at my parents that they had denied me a right of passage as a kid and here they are celebrating the holiday with my own.  To which my Dad replied quickly and confidently that they were wrong and at times parents make mistakes.  Nothing more than that.  For me, my Dad demonstrated a lot of grace.  He was not going beat himself up but stated where his decision wasn't the best and moved on.

I am thankful for the example my parents provided for me.  With the various projects that we have completed here and the people that we have interacted with, we struggle to always see the benefit we hope to create.  Where we need to be gracious with ourselves,  is that our hearts are always in the best interest of those we work with.  Continue to pray for us and those we work with as we desire to make positive and eternal change by doing the right thing.

a gift of life

This is the day the Lord has made.. let us rejoice and be glad in it!

This is what hospital visitation looks like.

Everyday is such a learning curve.  Sometimes I question things that just don't seem sensible and sometimes I just accept it and go with the flow.  I found myself in a very large line that spilled onto the streets of Jalapa today.  It was a line for visitation for the hospital.  For some reason today I felt a little more stared down but thought nothing of it.  After all, I am the tallest, whitest "gringo" in line.  As the door finally opened, the crowd of people progressed forward, but not my line.  I couldn't figure out why we were still standing in one spot.  We only had one hour to enter the hospital for visiting rights so let's get a move on I thought.  Besides, I didn't know which way was up in there and had a mission to find Rosa. I quickly realized that I was in the line of ALL men and they were allowing the women to enter first.  I felt like an idiot as I scurried past all the "macho" men in their cowboy hats. 

I almost cried when I saw Rosa.  She looked like a deer caught in headlights.  Almost like she was in shock.  I was expecting her to be labouring still but found her in a ward room with other new moms.  She looked tired and weak.  I held her face in my hands and told her how proud I was of her to do this all on her own.  

Rosa and her older sister were brought to our home because of incest.  Her older sister already has a three year old.  A perverse past that I can't even begin to imagine.  A raping of her soul, self esteem, and identity as a teenager.  And still no justice as the father has taken off with two other younger sisters.  

Setting aside my anger at the situation, I embraced this tiny baby boy and whispered in his ears .."its not your fault,.... God made you perfect"  I sat and just stared at the miracle of life before me as wails of a woman rang out across the hall.  Her baby didn't make it. She sobbed for a child she wanted and couldn't take home.  

My mother instincts quickly fell into play.  The baby was caked in poop. I looked around for a diaper. We had prepared Rosa with a "overnight" bag filled with tiny clothes, diapers and wipes.  While she had fallen asleep, someone stole her items and she had nothing to change him in.  With only an hour and a lot to do,  I ran down the a street to the pharmacy to buy diapers, wipes and lunch for Rosa.  By the time I had cleaned up and changed the baby, Rosa had scarfed down her entire meal.  She told me she didn't have any milk and almost looked defeated at the attempt to nurse.  I explained that it will take a couple days and the importance of drinking lots of water and to keep trying.  She allowed me to help the baby to her breast.  I remember those first few hours, days and weeks of being a new mom and feeling totally freaked out.  The fact that this tiny human was dependant on me for a source of food, comfort and love seemed overwhelming.  I thought of how my own mom came to the rescue so many times and knew exactly how I felt.  I stroked Rosa's head and brushed her messy hair up into a pony tail off her neck and washed her neck with a cool towel.  And I prayed with her thanking God for the safe arrival of the most beautiful gift.  A tiny precious life!

Calm Waters

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.....

                           I have experienced a love like no other.. 

                                             a love that reaches deeper into my soul with each passing day.  


For me, I don't need  distance to make me fall more in love with Him.   

      And then God revealed something of great significance.  

                He is waiting... patiently...wanting more of me than I could ever want from Him.

    The God of the universe is waiting for me to come before Him and give my time.  


I woke up this morning and hit the floor... feelings of fear and confusion overwhelmed me.  I poured out my heart to God and asked Him to forgive me for not always giving Him my first attention, time and thoughts. Yesterdays' events were a stark reminder of the corruption and evil in this world.  As I was joyfully welcoming my husbands return from Texas, in that same moment just 100 meters from our home, lives were lost and hearts were shattered.  

Do you ever wake up and think today could be your last day? 

        I did today. 

              How would you live your life differently?  

God has reminded me that the things of this world will never satisfy, always change and are merely things. 

 Stuff clutters our homes, minds and lifestyles that aren't always kingdom building.  We put so much energy and focus on stuff. 

Realizing this  short time we have on earth and the eternity that awaits, makes me strive to live more and more for Christ. 

Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever.  

                       He is my constant through the storms of life. 

      
         When the boat feels like it is sinking, He says be still.  

                      
                      He calms the storm and says, "trust me"

                   
                    We are not called to live in fear but to trust.  

      
       And everyday I can walk with confidence and peace that God has us in the grip of His hand.