2011

2011 will go down as one of my favorite years ever (even though I've only live 17... and can't even remember the first few). Beginning with me apply to go with our church Nicaragua team and ending with fundraising for my trip to Uganda! A great way to start the new year! Anyhow, this year has a billion happy moments. From walking in a park with the rain dripping from the leaves and overlooking the lake with my dad, to praising God in a land so foreign to me with the thunder cracking and the rain pouring and God's presence so filling. Holding orphans. Digging a septic tank. Making videos with some crazy and amazing friends. Getting a crazily cute puppy for my golden birthday (17 on the 17th). Meeting some of my cousins for the first time ever, seeing my aunt after 10 years (which should never, never happen again), visiting with my Gran, seeing my grandpa after 10 years, meeting great grandparents, and great-aunts and uncles, and 2nd cousins and some people related in a round-about way. Attending my cousins wedding. Opening a preschool. 2 CYT shows with amazing people. The adoption of our babies-finally! 12 flights with my dad. A handfull of inside jokes with my mom. Tons of laughter with my siblings. Lots of memories made with my dearest friends. It's been a good year. Looking forward to all that God has in store for this year! 2011 went so quickly, but I have faith that 2012 is going to be amazing.

*Update* Let the Fundraising Begin!

So, if you haven't read about my upcoming mission trip you can go here to read. My first fundraiser is this puzzle of the US. Each piece is a $30 donation (paypal button on right side), it gets me closer to purchasing a ticket to Uganda, and makes my cute little ticker on the right side go up. Your name will be written on the piece you choose (it doesn't necessarily have to be the state you live in either), and pictures will be posted of our growing puzzle.

**Update** So far- West Virginia, Hawaii, Missouri, Oklahoma, Michigan, Idaho, California, North Carolina, Oregon, Georgia, Washington, Alaska, South Carolina and North Dakota have been claimed! It's so exciting to watch the puzzle grow!

Jesus left heaven. He left it all for our sake, for mine, for yours. He left the glory and the splendor and the holiness behind and found himself in a dirty manager built for animals. Found himself being raised by two parent's who had no idea on how to raise the Son of God. Found Himself being praised by the shepherds. Found Himself emerged in the darkness and sin. He found Himself walking down roads pharisees forbid, because that's the road where the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the wicked ones lived. That's the place where Jesus found His joy, were people shared this joy. Where He could longed to reach them, because they most likely didn't have everything figured out in life, and somehow, He knew their pain. He knew. This man who the pharisees though crazy because He claimed to be the Son of God, the man who walked the streets healing and praying. He knew. Because He knew, they wanted more of Him. Because He understood they celebrated with Him. Because He knew, they loved Him. He was only a man, a man they could relate to, but somehow He was also more than a man. He was everything. Because He was everything they cried as He died, as He finally left this dark world for 3 days. But because He was everything, death couldn't have it's victory. For He was victorious. They saw. They believed. They rejoiced. Because He was victorious He left this world with a promise of His return for His chosen. Because He is victorious and glorious and understanding and beautiful and grace giving and love extending and willing to save our sinful heart, we celebrate this day. We celebrate a God who wasn't just born and buried in a tomb, we don't celebrate a fictitious God. We celebrate a God who wasn't just born on Christmas day, yes, hope was born that day, but a God is always and forever. A God who loves. A God who lives. A God who is glorious. And while today may not mark the exact day of His birth, we still remember, He loves us. He always has, even longer than the 2011 years. The thought of a love so big, so deep, so unending is hard to grasp with such feeble human minds. I will not only celebrate that day when the angels sang and the shepherds came and the wise men bowed and Mary bore a Son- I will not celebrate only one day a year. I will celebrate it every day as I rise from bed and realize my happiness, my peacefulness my love-it's all because of Him. He became small enough to be the Savior of the world.

Christmas

I find it strange that nearly 2.1 billion Christians will celebrate the Christ's birth this year... and yet there are 147 million orphans who may never even hear the story of the Savior; the Savior who left heaven and was born in a stable to save them. Maybe we should lose the title Christianity and become Christ followers. Jesus loved the children. Jesus came for the children. Jesus commanded that we provide for the orphans and widows. Instead we focus on materialism this time of year. We focus on what we want instead of truly thinking about what Jesus would want. When He looks at the earth that He travelled to over 2000 years ago, does He see the 2.1 billion Christians worshipping Him and all He has brought? Or does He see the greediness, the tearing of the wrapping paper and hundreds of dollars spent to please one person? Does He see the love that the world has for Him? Does He see the homeless man cold and alone Christmas morning while people drive past him? Does He see the orphan with the empty eyes and a hungry belly? Does He see the widow with the roof that keeps leaking and the home that keeps flooding? Does He see the village so desolate? Does He see the small hands of a child rolling up cigars? Does He see the prostitute pretending to be someone she isn't? Does He see the teen-aged mom spending the day alone? Does He see the weeping, hurting and angry? Does He see what you are doing to celebrate His birth or what you aren't doing?

While millions join hands in the living room and sing "Joy to the World" by the fireplace, He holds the tears of the other millions in His hands.

Uganda Bound!

Click on to enlarge letter.

So, I recently got accepted as a volunteer at Amani Baby Cottage, an orphanage in Uganda for children under 6 years of age.

My hope is someone from every state will buy a puzzle piece (donation is $30) when you buy a piece your name will go on the back of your state, and when the puzzle is completely together, I will be able to buy my plane ticket. You can donate to paypal: grizwife@yahoo.com

More updates to come! Excited to see this puzzle come together!

One child has all they need and more, while the other child is subject to abuse, extreme poverty and child labor.

One child has the world between her finger tips, lives in freedom, wealth and love. The other has no choice, no voice and is often forgotten.

One child has no worry about being loved, never worried about who will love them. While the other remains an statistic and may never know what it's like to have a mother's kiss before bed and a father's strong hand to hold onto.

One child lives in world of materialism, while the other lives in a world filled with hope for a better tomorrow and joy for today.




These worlds are so different, and yet I love them both with great passion. When these worlds meet something incredible happens, something almost magically forms and suddenly two worlds and there differences are no longer there. There are no more statistics, no more faceless orphans and widows, no more selfish pride, instead stands perfection, beauty and harmony.

Today's the Day!

My soul sings. 3.5 years ago they stole our lives from us, they held on tight to our hearts, and they didn't let go. I am overwhelmed with happiness. 3 years of heartache, confusion and uncertainty will give way to singing hearts, joy and certainty. They will be ours. Ours forever and ever and ever. Their last names will be change to the same as mine, my dad's, my mom's, and my siblings.

Jesus, thank You. You are the one who orchestrated this whole mess. You are the One when we felt unsure and afraid, You conducted, You knew. Thank You, Jesus. You knew the whole story from beginning to end. You wrote the words. You knew. You brought tears, you saw the pain. You brought the laughter, You saw the faces. Faces filled with You, filled with smiles because of Your goodness, grace, love and beauty. You knew. These smiles were here to stay. You bring joy when the sun rises each morning. When we saw the sloppy damages done, You saw the healing to come.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. You bring a song from my heart. You bring gladness. Oh, Jesus, no words can explain how good You are. Thank you, Jesus. No praise will ever be enough. You knew. You knew that while our todays were awful, filled with injustice and full of tears, tomorrow was new. Tomorrow was good. Tomorrow our hearts would sing again, sing of the God who saves. Tomorrow the lonely would be set in families who adored them. Oh, Jesus, to know You knew.

Joy

I remember the day like no other. They came and took her from us and left us standing in uncertainty, confusion and heartbreak. "They'll be back before Christmas." I told mom. We cried ourselves to sleep, remembering the beginning of our nightmare. It all started March 2008. The grandmother called asking my sister and I to babysit her 15 month and 6 week old granddaughters. We were captivated that night, though we didn't know it. The chubby 15 month old with the deep voice and curly dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. She stole our hearts and ran with it, though we didn't feel it. Babysitting began to turn into daycare. My sister and I were not paid, we did it simply because we loved the children. We soon learned that the parents of the children were in rehab. The 15 month old came to live with us, though we didn't realize it. The 6 week old went into foster care. The two older children lived with another family and occasionally spent the night or week with us. The months passed and we lived and loved these children.

Summer came, the baby was out of foster care and placed with the grandmother. I will never forget the night mom unloaded the car and brought in baby dresses and a little pink swing. "You do see what's happening, right?" I knew it, the grandmother was a manipulative woman. "No, no. She wanted you to see all the cute stuff she bought!" Somehow the stuff never left our home and the baby came into it. I loved her. She filled me. I rocked her to sleep every night to the song Motions by Matthew West. I clutched her to my chest and she listened to my heartbeat. I knew her schedule well. She woke up around 5 for a bottle and then fell back asleep in my arms. I woke up to the sound of her baby talk or crying every morning. I remember the morning I woke to find her sitting up in her crib. I was so proud. I remember the days as she learned she had a voice, she would start quiet and her voice would lift higher and higher into her high pitched scream. Her giggles. Her dimples. Her first tooth. Her first taste of solid foods. Her being cheered on as she sat up, and we timed how long until she would topple over. The day she was ill and I held her all day, brought her outside and let the breeze wash over both of us. That night I became ill too, but I wouldn't change that day of holding her sick, feverish body. I remember carrying her through Costco, my arm aching and sweaty, but I wouldn't put her down. She was mine for that short stay with us. For two months, I loved her. She was mine and I was hers.

Then it happened. The 15 month old (now 21 month old), was taken from us. It was supposed to be a visit, we didn't get to say goodbye to the reason we had become involved in this mess. I held tightly to the baby, hoping they would allow us to raise her, hoping but not believing it would happen. We had just driven home, mom and I, from a night out. The knock on the door and the dog growling told us it wasn't a neighbor stopping by. The police walked into our home, hunched over and looking into the bedrooms as though we were criminals. We knew. Our hearts pounded. We gathered her toys, clothes, and car seat. She woke up and stared at us. I didn't have the nerve to say goodbye. I watched as her birthmom waltzed into our home, bent over and buckled her into her seat talking to her. I hid my heartache. She was gone. Mom came into my room that night, "You ok?" I nodded. But I wasn't. I cried myself to sleep that night. The emptiness filled me. I grieved. I remember the wondering and longing. Were they ok? Would I ever see them again? Would they grow up never even knowing what we did for them? How much we loved them? Would I ever hold my baby again? I felt as though I was being slowly suffocated, but soon the feeling left. God filled my emptiness. Maybe the birth mom would make it, maybe she would be ok. We prayed. Christmas. Three months away.

Those three months were long, dreary, and hopeful. The girls older brother visited, he only brought heartache, wishing for the girls to be here for a visit too. We loved on him and then watched him go again. It was early December when we got the phone call. Everything was blowing up in their faces. The children were being neglected, malnourished, left home alone, and living with a felon. They were very ill. We prayed. We began to research, check in with the CPS worker who knew the situation and had been following the family for years. We contacted DSHS over where they lived, making sure they weren't picked up yet (if they had been they would have been split up). That week was the longest ever. Sitting in the courthouse, hoping fictive kin custody was possible, as the CPS worker suggested. It was. Extended family didn't want the children. So we fought for it.

I remember laying in bed, huddled underneath blankets, the next day would bring the answer. 'Joy to the World' by Nicholas Jonas came on the radio. For some reason it had always been my favorite Christmas song, but now it brought new meaning. Tears fell and I pleaded to God. Bring them home, bring them safe. The next day I sang Mighty to Save all day long. My mom was soon on her way to pick the children up with a court order. It was one o'clock in the morning when they pulled in. The baby was brought in first. She stared at me with scared eyes and I began to unbuckle her from her car seat. I held her tight. She was different. She was dirty. She was sick. When she had left with her birth mom she was close to crawling, she was standing up holding on to the couch or chair. Now, she was developmentally delayed. Her legs were spread wide apart, she dragged herself across the floor with no use of her legs. She was unhealthy. The now 2 year old was brought in, she was ill, with a staph infection covering her entire body, frightened and dirty. We embraced her. The brother came in, wheezing, his hair long and dirty. He hadn't had a asthma treatment since he had left. All my siblings woke up, and we stayed up until four and then went to bed. I got three hours of sleep that night, but it didn't matter to me. I snuggled the baby, reintroduced myself to her.

The days leading up to Christmas consisted of haircuts, asthma treatments, doctor appointments, training the baby to use her knees to crawl and how to eat baby food, and tons of loving. I held the baby most of the time. Christmas arrived and we were a family again. We are a family today. Three years later we are preparing for the adoption of our babies. Anna the baby has grown into the funniest, smartest and most imaginative almost 4 year old I know. Dilly is healthy, beautiful and the reason we are a family today. Isaiah is handsome, funny and charming. Our journey with these three has been the most difficult and yet the most rewarding. I have been unable to forgive the birth family for the neglect they put the children through, and the manipulation they hold over my family. I tell myself that forgiveness must take place, Jesus told us to forgive. But I can't. So I ask God to forgive my unforgiveness. The babies have brought so much joy, so much laughter and so much life to our family. They filled us. I can't imagine my life without their silliness. I can't imagine. And every time Nicholas Jonas' song comes on, I remember, I cry, and I am filled with hope. HE still hears those small little prayers cried out from what seems like the darkest corner of the universe. Not only does HE hear, HE answers.

Thank you, Jesus. You set the lonely, neglected and fearful children in families.

Captivated.


Loved.


Adored.


Dilly Doll.


Silly Goose.


Brother.

If you happen to stop by our house, be fully prepared to see something like this:

Watch your ankles on the way out...don't let this one bite you.

"All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. But dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance, just don't tiptoe." ~Unknown

Moments.

"I wanna be a mommy when I grows up!" Dilly, almost 5, reminds me often. Her reminders make me remember. The moments of growing up, of longing to be older, bigger, better. I remember those days when I was small and filled with childish dreams. Dreams that filled my head and made me how long it would be, until I was big. How long I would wait, until my dreams became reality. But here I stand, seventeen years old, and my ability to dream has been condensed. My child-like faith has it's limits. I doubt myself, I doubt the world and sometimes I find myself doubting God. Moments. They go by so fast. I remember looking at a calendar and thinking of how wonderful it would be when I had my golden birthday, that came and went this summer. I was no bigger, no better than before. I remember when I would imagine what it would be like to drive a car, I got my license in June. I have gained a small ounce of freedom, but other than that, I'm no bigger, no better. I realized as this summer filled quickly with beautiful memories, moments only last so long. Life flies by and there is no way to press the pause button. The world keeps spinning. In Nicaragua my heart cry was "I never want to forget, never want to forget these moments." But back within the comfort of America I find myself growing further from those moments. Life goes on and I learn. I learn that we as humans are only wanting to be bigger and better. Bigger and better is empty though, it's an empty place to be. I'm finding that I now long to be deeper, my toes buried deep beneath God's word, my faith sprouting as I find -again- that sweet thing called child-like faith. I want to be deeper. I want to be a young, pig tailed, dreamer again.

How do you walk away from the mirror?

Half-hearted Christians. Christians who rely heavily on salvation to save them. Christians who tell themselves watching the rated R movie is ok, Jesus' blood will wash them white. Christians who cuss and blame it on the moment, Jesus will forgive. Christians who spit out hate filled words and walk away, Jesus will extend grace. Christians who pass by the weak, poor and lonely, and claim they didn't see Jesus in the bearded man, the staggering woman, the timid child. They didn't see Him standing there, Jesus will understand. Salvation will save them. They believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. They believe His death on the cross will be their liberty. They have faith. They just don't see. They don't see the words written in the bible, the words to love, to cherish, to sustain and fulfill. They don't see the words that say love them. They only see the blood stained cross, the cross that will save them from eternity in hell. They see a ticket to heaven. That's all they want, that's all they think about. Themselves. They need salvation, but they don't need to waste time feeding the hungry, clothing the homeless, caring for the weak, loving the broken-hearted. That's not their job. They don't care. They label themselves Christians and walk away, no meaning to it, only the hope of heaven. I want to be something different, I want to become radical. I want a different label. I want to be a Christ-follower. Someone who follows in Christ's footsteps, someone who understands the needs of this world. Someone who loves, someone who doesn't look forward only to heaven, but also to seeing others there.

Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does. James 1:23-25

Are you the Christian who looks at the beauty of the cross, the perfectness of salvation and walks away empty? Or do you find the freedom, the beauty and the perfectness everyday, all day? In every small thing? In every rain drop, every filled belly, every loved soul, every smile on the homeless man's face? Do you find the beauty in Christ or in the promise of forgiveness after wickedness?

September 11 2001

It's a day that is sketched into my memory. A day that changed America. I was only 7 years old that day, I remember it well, though I didn't understand the tragedy as well as I do now. We had just woke up when mom and dad found out about the terrorist attacks. We all went downstairs with plates filled with pancakes and dripping syrup. We watched the news, the towers and pentagon burning. The people jumping from windows...mom turned the channel. We watched in silence. We flipped through channels. We ate our pancakes. The door bell rang, my heart pounded wildly. We were living on an air force base at the time, which instead of reassuring it frightened me. Dad went upstairs. The ups man. We continued watching tv. That's all I remember. People screaming, jumping, watching in horror. The towers collapsing and the debris and dust engulfing the city. Then the news that followed days later of survivors, of heroes, of war. I'm glad I have memories of that day, of America on that day. I pray for America's future, that we may continue to be a resilient nation. One Nation under God. September 11 2011, marked the 10th year. Somehow it seems like not that long ago since the sticky fingers and fearful heart. I flew on the 10th anniversary. I flew across the entire Nation. I was safe, I was proud. On our descent a mother sang to her 10 month old baby girl, "God bless America, My home sweet home." The city lights and the huge moon, the baby with no memories of that day. The mother singing softly into her ears. I knew she would learn, learn of America's history, the tragic day in 2001, and be a proud little american girl. God bless America.

He stares you down. His small body heaving from the screaming he has been doing. There is no calming him, the anger inside him cannot be calmed. He hits, says he hates you, so you pick him up. You hold him. He tries to bite. "How's your day been?" He'll begin to calm. "What was your favorite part of today?" He starts to suck his thumb. "Did you have a yummy lunch today?" He nods ever so slightly. His body begins to relax, but his eyes are still filled with anger.

If only. If only his birthmom hadn't done drugs.

She looks in confusion, she's been told the same thing day after day. A simple reminder. Our frustration is building. She has forgotten... again. She stumbles over her words, her eye brows furrowed.

If only. If only her birthmom hadn't drank alcohol.

She's a wild little thing, cute as a button but extremely ADHD. She doesn't listen to a thing, she can't control herself. When she wants something she'll go for it, whether it means chasing a ball across a street, running through Costco trying to find the Goldfish.

If only. If only her mom hadn't used meth during pregnancy.

She shrugs her shoulders, shakes her head, tries to look innocent. She lies, she steals, she hides, she manipulates. Nobody can resist her cute little smile, nobody. Just when we think she's on the way to healing something goes missing again. The process begins again, the sneaking, the keeping one eye on her whenever she comes and goes.

If only. If only she hadn't been taught at the tender age of five to steal.

My heart throbs. I want them whole, I want them healed. I want them to be normal. I want them to be cleansed of the heartbreak after heartbreak in their past. I want them to forget the neglect, the abuse, the pain. But here we are. A bunch of If onlys. We learn to accept...on most days. We learn to forgive. We learn that if the past were different than 9 little lives would never be ours. Ours to hold, nurture, love, adore, teach and treasure. They wouldn't be ours. They wouldn't be here. We learn. We learn to praise God in the healing of small things, we learn to control our tempers when all we want to do is scream. We learn that life isn't always easy, but look at Jesus' life. He lived a life of destitute, a life of sneers and humility. But in that life He demonstrated what true living was. True living isn't easy, true living isn't being spoon fed and well dressed. True life is hard, gruelling at times, and full of tears. But it brings that joy of persevering for His namesake. When people stare, when people ask if you have any friends, when people look at you like you're idiots for having so many children. Life is supposed to be full. Overflowing with purpose. With love. And so we journey. We ignore the past, we try to forgive birth parents and focus on the present. We laugh, we work through moments and we live.

Things I miss about Nicaragua

1. The heat.

2. The humidity.

3. The children.

4. The 6-month old baby with the chubby cheeks and heavenly smile.

5. The rain.

6. The way the thunder and lightning shake the ground as we sing "Our God is an Awesome God."

7. The kissing sound of geckos.

8. The fellowship.

9. The beans and rice.

10. The searching the bathroom stall before going in.

11. The cold shower after sweating all day.

12. The falling asleep watching a lightning bug dance around the ceiling.

13. The laying in hammocks late a night talking with a dear friend and watching the lightning, while listening to a party across the street.

14. The sound of babies crying in the room that echos.

15. The watching the love the nannies have for the children and babies.

16. The laughter of children.

17. The sound of spanish, the tongue rolling the r's.

18. The bus rides.

19. The church.

20. The music on the beach.

21. The taste of Coca-cola, much sweeter since it is made with REAL sugar.

22. The early mornings.

23. The awakening to a rooster's crow.

24. The awakening to children playing volleyball.

25. The lush green mountains.

26. The slight breezes that make you thank God.

27. The swings that make up for it when there are no breezes.

28. The soreness after wheelbarrowing heavy mud.

29. The trying to take everything in as you grip your camera between your hands knowing that not even the camera can capture all this, so you try to remember everything.

30. The small cross ontop of the mountain.

31. The sound of children singing.

32. The stories told among us.

33. The videos we made when exhausted.

34. The trying to hold back tears.

35. The last glance at Managua before leaving it all and going home.

Note: This is only some of the things I miss.

Leaving Nicaragua

I woke a 1:45, unable to sleep. I lay awake until it was time to get up and go. We all met up and crossed the busy highway at 3:30...fun and adventurous. We arrived at the airport early, and ended up standing in line for a while before we were able to actually check in and head through security and to our gates. It was so hard watching Managua grow smaller as we ascended, I held back all emotion. We landed in Houston, made it through custom without any problem and called mom. My facebook status that day was "Toilet paper now goes in the toilet and the drinking fountain water can be drunk." Three of us girls had a blast sitting in the very back row of the plane, we actually met some pretty cool people who were waiting for the bathroom. Seattle was a near nightmare. We had about 15 minutes to get to our gate, and get our boarding passes. When we landed we found out that our gate was at the opposite end of the airport. We all ran. We made it in record breaking time only to be told we weren't on that flight. We all had the flight number and everything. The man who helped us was no help, leaving us frustrated. What was more frustrated was that we were only an hour from home. We made a call to the travel agency who had booked our flights and they told us we had been changed to a later flight. We then realized the gate was on the other end of the airport...only a couple gates down from the flight we had just gotten off of. So, we ran again. We all held our breath as we checked in. And sighed in relief when we were all on the flight. Soon we were headed home...it was very bittersweet to me. I missed home, I missed mom and the kids, but I wanted so badly just to be back in Nicaragua. I love the ride from Seattle to home, by the time you are done ascending, you descend. It short and sweet. We all walked together chatting about when we would see eachother next. I saw mom, Kyla, Trey, and Amy, with my birthday gift-a puppy. Everyone looked so white after being with Nicaraguan children for the last 10 days. After getting our luggage and giving hugs to team we then go home. I'm happy, until all the gifts are handed out and I'm left with the longing to be back. For the next three days I cry. I cry because I want to be back. I miss so much about it. It changed me, taught me, and began to mold me. When in a different country, you forget about your fear of small creature and how you hate to be sweaty. You forgot about how you look and what you wear. You forget about comfort. And you live. For those ten days I realized what it felt like to live with meaning. I realized how stress free it was to live so simply and humbly for 10 days. Those 10 days were days that may very possibly be the happiest of my entire life. The joy there is contagious as well as the smiles. How HE loves to offer me a trip like this. How HE loves to send me, to mold me, and to show me what He accepts as pure and faultless. How HE loves. It's been 5 weeks since we arrived home. 5 weeks. But not one day has gone by that I haven't thought of Nicaragua. Haven't missed it. Haven't wanted to be there. A couple days after returning home I was in church, the day was hot and beautiful as we walked into our church. The air condition welcomed us, and we sat in comfort. But my heart was longing deeply for Nicaragua. Half way through the service thunder crackled and rain began to pour. I mean pour.

It made me smile. It felt as though God sent it for me. He brought me comfort through the rain. How He loves. This journey hasn't stopped in Nicaragua. I sat in church again a couple weeks after returning. My hear cry was "God, why can't I be there?" I truly felt Him laugh at me, a laugh as though HE knows what HE holds for my future. Many sleepless nights, many rainy days, many small creatures, many children, many days full of laughter, smiles, and joy. But I know what will also accompany the days in other countries, seeing the broken, battered and lost. Tears, pain and sorrow. But still HE whispers to my aching soul. "I have great plans for you. You'll go."

Nicaragua 8

Left Jinotega in the morning. Piled suitcases into a car and headed out with the rest of the bags, down a muddy street through construction while men whistled and women and children and dogs stared. Drove down through the gorgeous mountains to Managua. We went to Tiptop Chicken (our KFC). We then drove to the market, I still try to take in every shop, every poverty stricken home, every vendor, every person. I'm in love with this place. The market was filled with dozens of trinkets. We all stop by the hammock shop. We bought 10-15 hammocks, the man laughed as he tried hard to keep up with all of us. He smiled ear to ear as we all left him panting in his shop. While choosing hammocks a robbery took place at the other end of the market, men went running, trying to find out what exactly was happening. We walked around the market buying bracelets and small trinkets to take home to family and friends. Even though it rained, the market was still sweltering, we would stop in shops just for the fan that every shop owner had. We then headed to the best western hotel. We had our last dinner as a team, soaked our dirty feet in the pool, and made videos. After dinner I decided to take a shower, rumor had it that the shower had warm water. I crossed my fingers only to find it slightly warmer than the showers in the orphanages. To me though, it was wonderful. Suddenly it hit me. This was a different world than I was from. A world where toilet paper goes into trashcans because the pipe can't handle it. Waste fills the lakes, and trash spills down the sides of mountains. But for some reason it was the water bottle on the bathroom counter that got me crying. The water bottle placed faithfully each day, because the tap water was filled with amoebas. A world that American would shudder at living in. A different world of beauty and grace. A world I love and admire. This is the world God called me to. This is the world my heart longs for. A simple life, but a life overflowing with meaning. A world glorifying God from the depths of poverty with joy and laughter and smiles. A world I miss.

Nicaragua 7

Our last day in Jinotega. Held a small VBS in the morning, I think we enjoyed it more than the children. We themed it around the story "Rainbow Fish". We sang songs in Spanish, played games and did crafts. We dug for the last time in the septic tank hole, we completed about 4 feet deep...almost halfway mark. We went to market, picked up coffee, walked through Jinotega's Central Park. Then picked up the children from school. We spent the evening celebrating one of the girl's birthday, with ice cream and delicious banana cake. We held worship and shared testimonies with the children. Our big circle, with children who only understood what we said through translation. Our big circle of broken people made new by Jesus Christ. Our big circle of orphans. Our big circle of smiles. Our big circle of laughter. Our big, beautiful, love-filled circle of people from two different worlds. Our big circle worshipping one God. We Americans live with such gripping hands, holding onto worthlessness. I've seen what it is to live fully, with meaning. To live serving others. To hope. To dream. To prosper. To sacrifice. Children teach so much... I thank God for this opportunity.

Nicaragua 6

It rained all night long... I love the sound of the rain falling on the tin roof, but, our hole we had been working on was full of deep puddles of water. With buckets we were able to get most of it out, but the mud was hardly a joy to get the wheelbarrow through. We took a short walk to one of the small shops located right outside the gates of the orphanage. With all the construction, men, LARGE puddles, and our very American ways, it was an adventure. Thankfully we had one of the missionary men with us. We got back to work digging, we would only have the next day afternoon and wanted to get as much as we could done. Finished the day playing with the children of course.

God is so good.

This is a Nicaraguan fly. What makes them different from North American flies? They are much more relaxed, takes their time, and enjoys life. Thus, allowing me to take a few pictures until I got it just right.

Nicaragua 5

We wake up to a rooster's crow and children playing volleyball. We begin work at 8:30, we are digging a 10by12by10 hole for a septic tank. The dirt is heavy, and with all the rain it only adds to the weight. I wheelbarrow dirt to the edge of a hill and watch as our mound slowly grows. Around 12 we break for lunch, it's the fourth of July so we have hot dogs, Doritos, potato salad, and soda. It was good to have American food. After lunch a few of us go to the market in Jinotega. We order coffee to bring home with us from a small Christian cafe. The men sit on steps whistling and trying out their english on us "Yooou have a beeeautyful smi-el." While sitting on steps waiting for some of our team members, a small boy walked up to us. He had a old gray ripped t-shirt, snotty nose, dirty face, bloated stomach and scar that ran across his head. I couldn't imagine the living conditions he endured. He was a poster child for poverty. He wanted his picture taken with the gringos. After re-joining with our team and heading into the market area, with fruits and vegatables and a abundance of fruit flies we bought what we needed for the orphanage and then began to head back to the bus. After realizing the small boy was following us, one of the orphanage directors hired him to help carry bags back to the bus. He was delighted, he swung the bag of pineapple onto his shoulder and walked back with his. His face filled with joy as he was paid will forever be in my mind. What a precious child. I don't know his name, and he doesn't know me, but he is someone I never want to forget. Hope exists among the least of these, the ones who may be last here on earth, but will be the greatest in heaven.

Nicaragua 4

On our way out the gates of Los Cedros and onto Jinotega, I felt a strong peace that this would not be my last time here. I knew they were in the best of care, and did not wish them all to come with me. I hoped they would find families, but within their cultures. While I was filled with God's peace, but at the same time I wanted selfishly to return. The drive into the mountains and to Jinotega was long, but the sights amazing. I wished to capture the sights, smells and sounds and bring them home with me. I miss it. Jinotega is beautiful. We played with the kids once arriving at the orphanage. They love volleyball, soccer, roller blading and basketball-anything athletic. After playing a while we sat on the front porch and listened to one of the little boy's story. Since he has scoliosis, his parents couldn't care for him and so his grandfather raised him. Now, his grandfather was blind and the boy couldn't walk. So he was hefted up onto the shoulders of his grandfather, becoming his grandfathers eyes, and his grandfather becoming his legs. This little boy now lives at the orphanage and has recently had surgery. He is one of the most charming little boys EVER. His story is incredible, the resilience of these people amaze me and continue to amaze me. The caregivers working in both orphanages amaze me. Nicaragua amazes me.

Nicaragua 3

Spent our last day at Los Cedros(The orphanage up to age 7), playing with the kids, planting 15 trees (while doing so saw a tarantula), and finished the day with a trip to the Pacific ocean. We were joined by some of the teenage boys and little ones who live at the orphanage. Beautiful baptisms took place there. Laying on the hammocks, listening to the sound of Spanish, the ice cream cart and the downpour of rain I realized how much I loved where I was. It's not necessarily the country I fallen in love with (although I love Nica), it's the atmosphere, the hope, the joy, the peace and even the humidity and heat. I love the sound of rain more than ever now, it reminds me of Nicaragua. We headed back to the orphanage, spent more time with the kids and had the best carrot salsa. Leaving was harder than I expected, I barely knew the kids there, and I knew they were in wonderful care... but it was still hard. I realized that this for me was not a 'Break my heart, God' trip. This trip only assured me that this place, this broken and beautiful place was where I belonged. Maybe not this country, but this different culture. This place overflowing with beauty.

Nicaragua 2

We woke up late and hurried to breakfast. Pancake, bacon, rice and beans. I'm already loving the food here. After breakfast we headed to a poverty stricken community. The houses are smaller than the average bedroom and made of tin roofs, that leak when the rain pours daily. We visit a preschool, the children are joyful, they laugh freely. The women who teach them are patient and full of life. Today they are learning their vowels. A few of the girls have malnutrition streaks in their hair and rotted teeth. I can't imagine living their lives, but to them this is all they know and they are happy and grateful. We walk through the neighborhood, a chicken feasts on bugs at the edge of the muddy road, a boy trudges along with a makeshift wagon holding buckets of water, a dog stumbles about seeking food, two children laugh pushing two old tires down the road, a rose bush blooms. We meet a family and ask if we can pray for them. They say yes, and then explain their situation. They have 7 children, the husband lost his hand and now is unable to find a job. Their poverty is unbelievable. The woman tells us passionately that she trust God and knows His will will be full filled. We pray. Then we leave. We hear shouting, a woman is beckoning us to come. We are the Americans, we have more. She talks fast and tells us she has a need for mattresses and sheets. Clothes dry on her clothes line. She asks us to come inside. Nine live in the home barely bigger than my dining room. We sing "Jesus loves me" to her and her family and she sings a song back in Spanish. We pray for her financial situation, and that her roof may be fixed from the rain that leaks through. Something on the stoves heats the house, when we walk back outside to the heat it seems not as hot. We head across the road to another family. A mother and a darling little girl. She tells us she needs prayer that her fruit would be plenty, and that the road would be fixed so the rain wouldn't flood her house. We pray for her. Then we leave. We pile on our bus and leave the barrios. We leave behind the people, the faces, the poverty. We know we will never live like that. We never have to pray that our fruit may ripen so that we will be able to feed our child. We don't have to pray that the street we live on will be fixed so that our home won't be flooded every time it rains. We take clean water for granted. We take nearly everything for granted. These beautiful people trust God, they have so much more faith than most Americans. They live in despire in our eyes, and we live in despire in theirs. We have too much material possessions and are lacking in faith, they have too little in material possession, but possess such a strong faith that God will see them through. They have joy while we worry about small worthless things. They have hope when we would turn on backs on God. What they do have, we can only long for. We will never live as passionately and humbly until we abandon all we have and live and love the least of these. Until we become small.

Nicaragua

Flying into Managua the pilot pointed out the volcano on our right. The brown lake filled with Managua's waste comes in sight below us. We finally hit the old runway with a thud. We are all excited and worn out from our red-eye flight. As soon as we step off the plane the heat and humidity welcomes us. We are finally in Nicaragua. We make a quick restroom stop before heading through customs. Toilet paper goes in the trashcan located in the bathroom stall. We make it through customs and get out bags from baggage claim, thankfully everything made it. Outside is noisy and many people walk along the sidewalks waiting for their loved ones. We throw our suitcases on the back of a pick-up and wait for our bus. A bald man dabs his forehead with a handkerchief. A dog pants. A man walks through the streets selling water from a dirty bag. I continue to take in the sights. A horse with ribs showing grazes on the side of the road. Children walk from the Christian acedemy in uniforms. Nicaraguans watching the bus full of gringos drive past. The U.S. embassy stands with a flag barely waving in the still humid air. A man sitting in a hammock. Coconut and banana trees. A crater lake. A prostitution hotel. The lushness that the rainy season has brought. Every person who walked past the bus speaking spanish held their own story. This is amazing. We reach the orphange and sit down to have lunch together. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, papaya and salad. We hold the babies. At the end of our night we sing worship together as the rain pours and the thunder shakes the ground. I see a creatures glowing eyes as it scrurries through the grass. I fall asleep listening to the rain and watching a lightning bug dance around the ceiling.

Suitcase packed, camera charged and ready to go, audiobooks downloading to my ipod, excitement rising as leaving draws closer. In less than 24 hours I will be headed to Central America with my dad and a team from my church. Since I was little I had longed for this day, I would travel far from home to a land unknown to me to witness and love the orphans. I am ready for this trip to change me, for the experience to grow me. We will be painting a tin roof, doing a vbs, playing with the children and bringing the hope of redemption. God has blessed me with this opportunity, I am so thrilled. May God be gracious to us and bless us and make His face shine upon us, that His ways may be known on earth, His salavtion among all nations.

Lake Day!

Some people are like fishes in the water...

Some people just aren't.

Some people come to Kayak....

Some people just don't.

Some people go to the lake to play in the sand and water...

Some people just don't.