The Fire

In our little shelter for street children, I try very hard to be open to any child referred to us. I absolutely despise having to say "no" to admitting a child in need. They are there. We are here.  It seems an easy thing to open our home to the boys who have no place to go. It is what we do.

The last three children referred to our center were small boys. They were 9, 7 and 4 years old. I felt confused by this as younger children are rarely referred to us.  I assumed that this was the Lord's way of guiding our center to serve younger clientele and we welcomes the 9 and 7 year old willingly. (The 4 year old comes to us next week). These little boys are so extremely cute! They are all affectionate, cheerful little people who want to sit in your lap, be kissed goodnight, play with Legos, watch cartoons and do "little boy things".  

I saw my staff enjoying these children and, in a move that needs to happen more often than it does, reminded myself that Mercy House is NOT ABOUT ME.  The little dudes are happy here and my staff is happy.  They  bring a lot of joy and laughter to our shelter. They light up the place.

Their "issues" are nothing like the issues of the older boys we serve. They are easily managed. We haven't broken up a single fist fight or had to restrain  even one of these little ones in the heat of their anger. I was weighing the benefits of younger kids vs. older kids in my mind and finding a thousand reasons that younger street boys are the perfect kids for Mercy House.

But then, last week, I went into the street to spend time with a former client of ours who decided to go back to the "old life".  And I met his friends.  Actually, I woke his friends up to serve  them and see how they are doing in the unstable world of street life.

Our former client as we woke him up to eat lunch  

Good friend of our client 

His "tropa" - the best friends and literal "partners in crime"

And just like "that", the fire in my heart began to ROAR.  And as my eyes met theirs, I saw what true hopelessness looks like. Again.  And I felt ashamed at the same time.  I had spent too much time convincing myself that these boys are too old, too hardened and too difficult to serve.

That Mercy House should become a place for little kids.

I was prepared to do what has already been done to these young men time and time again- to turn my back because the work is daunting and the success rate is LOW once boys pass the age of 14 or so. They miss the street, and girls, and smoking, and having money. Being under authority gets tiresome to them sometimes. 

If I were not standing in the street, looking at these children, I could have justified it all. But God put a FIRE in me for these older boys.  He has given me a love for them that ONLY comes from him. It is not something anyone could manufacture.  It is as pure and true as any genuine love can be. It causes me to overlook the smell (oh, there IS a smell), and the curse words and the "tough guy" act they like to put on.  This supernatural love causes me to pray for these kids and to always remember their names, even after meeting only one time.  It makes me able to tell them apart from far away when I see them in the street and to remember what they like to eat or the small details of their lives they told me the last time we met.  It allows me to understand more Tagalog in the street than I can ever understand in a meeting. 

AND DO NOT BE DECEIVED. I AM NOT AWESOME. I AM NOT. APART FROM HIM, I AM ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. 

This fire in my bones for these budding young men was placed in me just the same way my faith in Christ was. By HIM, for HIM , through HIM.   I could no more extinguish this flame than I could snuff out my love for my own husband and children, it is there for good, I suppose. 

And they know. These boys know that I love them. They know they matter to me and, most importantly, that they matter to their Creator God. One of the first phrases I learned in Tagalog was "Jesus loves you so much".  I wanted to be sure that as I handed them their meal or their medication, they understood it came, not from some white foreigner, but from their father in Heaven who thinks they are worth feeding and loving and dying for. 

The time has come! We have a gorgeous piece of land that is free and clear. It's ours and it's waiting for a building. And INDEPENDENT LIVING CENTER for older street boys to be built on it. I have to do it. I have to do it for the boys in the photos.  I have to do it for the scores of older boys who are walking the line between street child and career criminal. I have to do it, more than anything, for the God who called us here and who put a fire in me that just will not die!   So please, please pray for Mercy House.  We don't have the staff for an independent living center. We don't have the funds to build. We aren't trained in the finer points of investing in the lives of these boys over age for adoption. All we have is a fire.

  But with the God of "two loaves and five fish", it is enough. 

    

Former client asleep on my lap as we wait for my staff

Mercy House

A God of Second Chances . . . And Third, And Fourth and More

If you read the blog post right before this one. You already know Arjay. You know how he came into care at our center and that he was a MAJOR behavior challenge.  You know that he was reunited with a relative who truly wanted to help him and seemed very prepared to handle his high energy and behaviors.

What you don't know is this . . .
after just ONE WEEK with his relative, Arjay ran away.  He went right back to the street.

We were with a visiting medical team at a local pharmacy. I was crossing the street to enter the pharmacy and skipping down the street right in front of me is a very dirty, shoeless, orange-haired street boy.  It was, of course, Arjay!   I called to him and he smiled the most genuine smile and came running toward me.  I wrapped him up in a tight hug and said "I miss you so much" in Tagalog.

I asked him to please come over to the car so Daddy Anthony could talk to him. He hesitated and looked a little fearful - worried he would be scolded for being back in the street.

He wasn't.

We talked to him about the reasons he left his relative's home. We asked what he was doing with his days. We reminded him that he could easily be picked up by the city's task force and placed into a shelter for youth in conflict with the law - a VERY rough place with much older boys and a lot of victimization. 

And then we asked the question that all of this chit-chat was heading toward

"Do you want to come back to Mercy House or stay in the street?"

He thought for awhile, mentioned not wanting to leave his friend who will be alone in the street without him and he said "the street".  

My heart broke a little. I know what awaits him out there. There are dangers he has yet to experience but probably will - assault by police, older men, drug addicts, being robbed or used in awful ways.

But we don't force any child into care. So I kissed him and told him I loved him and he skipped away.

In the two months between that day and today, I prayed often for this child. He never left my heart or mind.  I need more time with him . . .

So, yesterday, my social worker and I paid a visit to his mother to bring her some vitamins for her children. We planned to ask her if she had seen Arjay and if she knows where he is. 

We approached the home and who answered the makeshift door? Arjay himself! 

His big smile revealed how happy he was to see us.  Little did he know, I was probably a thousand times happier to see him.

His mother informed us he had just come home the day before in the middle of the night after being on the streets in Manila. 

She also indicated she does NOT want him there. She has to feed him, and discipline him, and she is too burdened to do either very well.

The Family Home

We offered to have him back at Mercy House. His mother tried very hard to encourage him to go. 

He told us he DOES want to go to school (did I mention he's EXTREMELY smart?), he told us he misses everyone at Mercy House. He kept making eye contact and looking away. Again and again.

But in the end, he was unsure about whether he wanted to come back so we discouraged him from coming.  We told him that he is welcome anytime and that if he showed up outside our gate, he would welcomed. 

But we also told him that he needs to be SURE.  No doubt about getting off the street. No "maybe" or "next time" or "probably".

So, the only thing we can do is pray and wait.

And ask YOU to pray.

Please pray for Arjay to come back.

He knows he is loved and wanted here.  But he also knows there are rules and a bed time and chores and accountability. All things he hates and does not have to contend with in the street. 

Freedom now or a future later? 

That is the burden of choice placed on the shoulders of a 12 year old who has neither the insight nor the maturity to make it. 

We covet your prayers. What a joy it will be if the next blog post I write bears the title "He's Back".

We don't give up easily. We pursue. We forgive. We love hard and overlook offenses.

After all. They are still just children  .   .   .

From THERE to HERE

For those of you with hearts for the poor, the orphan and the abandoned children of the world, we want to share with you  the path of one boy, from street child to sheltered child.

You may wonder HOW we find the children who need to come into Mercy House. Yes, we live in a place where we see children begging and working on the streets all of the time. But not ALL of them are actually "street children".  Many of them go home at night, empty out their pockets to help an impoverished family and sleep under a roof of sorts. With parents. And food. Some even go to school.

Those who don't, those who sleep outside of businesses and restaurants, in piles like puppies with other street children, those who can not go home because there is no home- or no parents - or abuse and starvation and drug addiction - THOSE are the children we seek to serve inside Mercy House.

And just over a week ago. That is who we admitted. His name is Mark.

We initially met Mark inside this government shelter for street children. That was almost three years ago. In this photo, he is in a yellow t-shirt on the far right. A smallish boy with light skin and a short haircut.
He had the same story most of the kids in the government shelter have. He is the child of drug addicts and at home, there is no food, no supervision and lots of heartache. So he took his chances on the street. On any given weekday, the government task force comes out to round up street kids and deposit them in this center. The kids often run away and are "re rounded up" multiple times. Mark is also a serial runaway.
We met him on the streets several times. Most recently, a month ago. And he looked nothing like the sweet-faced, fair-skinned little child we remembered from the government shelter.

He was thin, filthy, looked like he hadn't slept in a long time, was high on solvent and actively sniffing from a bottle held in his hand when we saw him. He recognized us and waved and smiled. It took us a few moments to recognize him because of his changed appearance.  We invited him inside McDonald's to eat a meal with us.  He told us that a month prior to that day, he had been released from the government shelter back into the care of his parents. He stayed home for exactly two days when the drug abuse and lack of food at home made the street a better option.   He spent his days begging for (or stealing) money in order to buy solvent to sniff and to purchase time at the computer shop. He had been my facebook friend for a few weeks and I wondered how a child with such a tumultuous life had the ability to have a facebook account.  Now I know.
After we heard his story, fed him a meal and prayed with him, we left him and went back to Mercy House. He had already sent us a facebook message asking us to "adopt" him.  We asked him to meet us the next day for counseling at the same McDonald's and he did.  We continued to talk to him, pray with him and let him know the rules and expectations inside our center.  We asked him to meet us again on another day for admission. We knew better than to admit him on the spot the first day. He needed to weigh his options. Think it over. Decide for himself.
He was there. On time.  And he was higher than we had ever seen him. It was unfair for us to ask him to stop sniffing solvent while he was still on the street.
Solvent takes away your hunger pains.  And your fear of the bigger kids on the street. And your thoughts about your parents and siblings.  It makes you feel like "Goku" (an anime character who has super powers) in Mark's own words.
So we brought a very high, red-eyed, dirty boy home with us to  go through withdrawal and get himself together.

Admission Day 

 Mark took a shower, got a quick tour of the center and asked if he could watch TV. He immediately fell asleep on the floor in front of the TV and slept for 17 hours STRAIGHT.  He woke up only once to be led up to his bed after using the restroom.  I checked on him often during the night, to feel his breathing, see if he was cold, find out if he wanted to wake up and eat something.  He just wanted to sleep.
The next day, we set out treating the many wounds on his body.

Many of the wounds were older but encrusted with dirt.  We were horrified to find out one of his wounds was a bite from a street dog. It took place long enough ago that rabies treatment would not have been effective for him.  So we prayed.
We decided to spend a week getting to know Mark, helping him to put on some weight (at 12 years old, he weighed 48 lbs upon admission) and finding out about his life both on and off the streets.
At the end of the first week, we asked him to lead us to his family home. His older brother was there holding his youngest brother, who was covered with a "mystery rash" of pus-filled sores.

The baby had sores on his scalp, and all over his body. The child caring for him had the same sores on his own feet and hands, as did the other sister.  The mother led me into a dark, dingy room and removed her shirt to show me a horribly infected breast oozing pus and a pregnant belly she claimed was six-months along but was only a small bump.  She is a meth user.

Their rented room is in the back of the alley  above and has no running water or electricity. The restroom is a 5-gallon paint bucket around a corner. The conditions here were dismal. I fetched my wound-care kit from the car and covered the mother with neosporin and clean gauze. I dared not treat the baby or children not knowing what they had.  After sharing the pictures with my friend who had been working with the poor for a long time. She confirmed it was mamasok (impetigo) and gave me a recipe of a cream to make.  We made it and took it to the family the next day.
A few days later, we visited them again, brought food and saw a HUGE improvement in the condition of all the family members.  Mark was relieved and happy to see his siblings healing up.
Mark has been to church with us once since admission, been a part of devotion eight times and asked me on four separate occasions what it means to be a Christian.  On January 22nd, Daddy Anthony shared a clear and concise plan of salvation from the Bible with Mark. He was ready to surrender his life to Jesus, experience forgiveness of his sins and start again!
Mark will be discipled at Mercy House.
He just started formal school today.
He eats three meals (with seconds every time) and takes daily vitamins.
He showers, brushes his teeth and has clean clothes each day.
He is a great dancer who leads the other kids in learning new dances.
He has a smile that can melt your heart and a tiny voice that is so sweet.
He gave me my first hug, unrequested, three days ago and I wanted to cry for joy.
Any life can be redeemed. There is no child "too street wise" or "too drug addicted" that the long arm of the Lord can not reach him.

 There is no sin too big that our God can not forgive it.  There is no family too broken that God can not mend it.  We are trusting in Him to use us as tools in His hand to reach out to Mark and his family until such a time that we know in our hearts they are unwilling and hardened and do not want to be helped. But even then, GOD STILL CAN.

Won't you join us in committing to pray for Mark and his whole family. There are five born children and one pre-born. There are two meth-addicted parents and a level of poverty that still sends shock waves into my heart, even though I've seen it before. 
Please pray that Mark's new-found faith is genuine and that he can grasp the deep love of Jesus for him. He hasn't felt much love in his own life.
We don't know the plans the Lord has for Mark and his family but we know that He led them to us. And us to them. To serve the best we can through the power at work within us - not our own.

As always, this is ALL HIM and little of us.  Just as it should be.

Formula Worship

This is a post I have wanted to craft for many years now.  It leaps into my thoughts at unwelcome times and I try to chase it away.

I tell this post that it will offend many of my dear friends.

I claim that it is the enemy trying to encourage me to stir up controversies and I shoo it away.

I insist that there is no useful reason to share these thoughts but the thoughts persist and I am going to share them.  If for no other reason than maybe they will quiet down once they are out of my head and resting in the blogosphere.

Because I was guilty and nobody shared this hard truth with me as a younger mother.  I wish I had known.

THERE IS NO FORMULA FOR RAISING GODLY CHILDREN.

NONE.

NADA.

ZILCH.

ZERO.

WALAT.

There.  I said it.  You can stop reading now or you can continue and hear me out.  

 My husband and I raised our children in the very best way we knew how.  We used a formula from our favorite authors and inspired by other families who appeared to have Godly children.  And here is how it looked:

We took "Growing Kids God's Way".
We read "Shepherding a Child's Heart". Often.

We homeschooled. (The Biggie)

 I stayed home from the time our second child was born.

We did not allow our children to watch shows we deemed inappropriate.

We prayed with and for our children daily. 

We had family devotions.  

We were quiverfull and trusted God with the size of our family - which resulted in two biological and four internationally-adopted children.

We allowed only "courting" and no "dating".  

We worked hard to make sure our children were one another's best friends and kept outside relationships as secondary. 

We ate dinner together almost every night.  

We made our children use the "interrupt rule" (hand on a parent when they needed to interrupt our talking to someone else). 

We made sure they asked forgiveness when they wronged another person instead of just tossing out "I"m sorry" halfheartedly. . .

I'll stop there but you know me or others like me. You either ARE like me or you tried to be and felt you fell so very short because of mitigating factors like your husband not allowing you to homeschool or not being open to adoption or . . . 

I worshiped that formula.  There were MANY times I judged other families who did not follow one or more aspects of that formula. Most of the time, I trusted the formula more than I trusted my Heavenly Father, who gave me my children and loves them more than I ever could. 

When my children were 4 and 6, I was fairly certain I knew everything about Godly parenting and was doing a bang-up job - even with one hand tied behind my back.

But something happened that shattered any notion of my beloved formula being foolproof. Something so shocking and heart rending that I was left, mouth agape, holding my tattered copy of "Shepherding" and wondering what on Earth had just happened.

They grew up.

My little treasures who hung onto my every word began to question things I said.  They began to meet people outside our homeschool bubble.  People with opinions and beliefs that were different from ours.  They began to ask me hard questions that "because the Bible says so" was not a satisfactory answer to.  Questions with "why" and "prove it" sandwiched in.  They began to put their pinky toes into waters that has always been forbidden.  They wanted to separate "real" from "imagined" and although I know and knew in the deepest parts of my being that the God they grew up knowing and loving IS ultimate truth, I could not FORCE them to  know this.

And I was heartbroken and terrified. 

 I began to curse the formula. I undertook the arduous task of rethinking every parenting decision ever made by my husband and I and trying to figure out where we went "wrong". . . where we diverged from the REAL, TRUE, TRULY, REALLY, SUPER TRUE formula.  And I made the wanderings and questioning of my children all about me, forgetting one tiny detail that was a game changer. 

We are all sinners.  Me. My children. The "perfect" friends with their "perfect" families.

All.

All of our righteousness is like filthy rags.

No one seeks after God. All have turned away.
He is God. I am not.

He is jealous for the hearts and affections of my children.

Total Depravity of man trumped by the

Irresistible Grace of a loving God
Once saved/ Always Saved

So I share this in hopes of encouraging you, striving mothers.  You who have a formula that you truly believe will result in your children following HARD after God all the days of their lives.  I don't know if the phrase "the formula doesn't work" will encourage you but I pray it FREES you. 

Yes, point your children to Jesus.

Yes, guard their hearts.

Yes, monitor their friendships and the things they set before their eyes.

But know in your inner most being that their walk with the Lord is NOT about you and does NOT depend on you.

Some of the most Godly women I know were raised in homes without a single Believer. 

Some of the most unGodly people I know were raised in Christian homes.

If I could go back . . . well, that's another post for another time. And I would make a lot of the same choices as a mother. But those choices would be filtered through the knowledge that they are not an insurance policy, guaranteeing Godly children.  They are choices made by the desire to be a good steward of the time I had with my kids before they grew up and began sifting through their beliefs and trying to separate the precious stones from fool's gold.   

And then I remember that I wandered and questioned, too. I took a Philosophy course at my secular college and studied Kant and Descartes and existentialism and relative truth and I began to question the faith of my childhood.  

And I came back stronger.

Because He is TRUTH.

And lies, over time, erode, exposing paper bones.

The Holy Spirit in me spoke a quiet truth into the noise of my doubt.

So, if you, mothers, are willing to learn from the life of another, please listen up.  The word of God is a solid foundation.   Do not fear for the hearts of your children. Do not trust the formula.  Trust the one who created and entrusted those children to you.  Trust HIS word.

Before They Are Yours

 Yesterday I woke up with a nagging sense of dread coupled with a little tinge of excitement.  The major task we were to undertake yesterday was "roaming".   Roaming is the act of taking an older child out into the community to trying and locate his birth family.  In this case, our newest resident, J (far left in this photo) along with me, my awesome social worker, my husband and our youngest son set out to  roam.  
Before we ever set foot in the car or set a destination into our GPS, I started the day with prayer, always asking the Lord to help us find the birth parents and discern HIS will for the future of this child.  Since our resident is already 11 years old, has been on the streets for two years and only remembers a very old address, we had little to go on but "go", we did.
What we encountered was not in the script but was clearly the hand of God guiding us in His sovereign goodness.
First stop was McDonald's.  Roaming can be hard on the children in our center and we want to make it a little bit of a treat so, we pulled into the McDonald's not far from where this young man used to be on the street.  Immediately, three street boys who were there directing traffic for money recognized him. They ran to him and started hugging him and asking him where he had been. We invited these three inside to have lunch with us and when they understood that we were from a ministry, they started to open up and talk about their own lives.

These boys shared their struggles and the brutal crimes they have witnessed on the street. They told us where they sleep and where they spend their days. They broke my heart but they also gave us hope. Despite the hardships they face, they are still very much children with an inexplicable innocence that you can see in their eyes.
My husband prayed with these boys and talked to them about Jesus.  He shared with them that God has a purpose and a plan for every life.  The oldest boy, age 18, was visibly clinging on to every word.
As we were finishing our visit, a lady of about 70 years came to our table. She pointed her finger at our resident, "J" and poked him on the shoulder.  She began to say LOUDLY (I suspect she is hard of hearing) that J is a thief and a drug addict.  She went on to tell us that he sniffs glue and that he is not a good boy.   We all just watched her in disbelief.   J slunk down a little in his chair and stared at the ground.
I simply said "Okay, thank you" and waited for her to leave.  She did. 
As we rose to leave, she came back repeating the same story with a little less volume.  My husband told her that this child has a new life now and those things that he did before do not matter to us.

THAT shut her up.     And J heard  Daddy Anthony say this and the relief was clear.   

We will not define this child or any of our Mercy House children by the mistakes of their pasts.  Ever.

No Exceptions.

Then it was on to J's last remembered address!  When we pulled up to the area, he did not want to get out of the car.  He was clearly not interested in any reunion!  We assumed it might be because neighbors would recognize him and come out and tell us bad things about him. This has happened to us more than once when roaming with other children.  But this was not the reason.
We convinced him to come and show us the" house".  A woman came out and DID recognize him. But she did not tell us anything bad that he had done.  Instead, she started recounting to us the beatings she witnessed this little boy getting on a regular basis.  She kept saying "your step mother would beat you with a wooden stick" or "your step mother didn't give you food" - things that broke our hearts to hear but, at the same time, we need the true history of this child to make the best plan and deliver the best counseling to him.  The neighbor told us she  herself used to give him food and clothing but his "step mother" would not allow him to have any of it.   She would cut up the clothing and make rags to sell. She must have eaten the food herself based on her physical description. She was NOT starving. He was.
And then our little resident spoke up in a quiet voice and said "hindi step mother. Mama ko."  (not my step mother.  My real mother).
The neighbor was stunned.  She thought this child was being rejected by a step parent, which is all-too-common here, but he was being systematically abused by his biological mother. 
And now we understood more fully why he did not want to exit the car.  And why he flinched when Daddy Anthony went to touch him in a joking way. And why he flipped out and yelled when being verbally corrected for a misbehavior. And "why" a lot of things. . .
This helpful neighbor informed us that the family had moved more than a year ago to another barangay - a huge squatter area spanning more than 5 acres that is a maze of narrow dirt paths and homes on top of shacks.   The neighbors wanted to report the abuse many times but, out of fear of J's family, she did not.  We can not fault them for this.  We wish they had reported it but they are poor and voiceless.  Who would protect THEM afterward?
So we went to the huge squatter area.  J pleaded with us not to ask him to roam and we didn't. He stayed behind with Daddy Anthony while my amazing social worker, Love, and I walked hours' worth of hot, smelly streets asking for J's mother at every vendor stand and posting his picture and information on walls and posts with scotch tape and a prayer.
So far, no mother.  So we wait and we keep praying.
But what we gained from this day made every second worthwhile.  We gathered some history. We put pieces in a jumbled, messy frame and helped a very precious boy to have some background where there was so little.  We found some answers that will help us approach this beautiful child with extra caution and understanding.  We communicated to him how important his life is.  He is worth the driving and asking and hot, hot walking.  

He is accepted.  And acceptable. 

Our prayer for him is the same as for every child in our care.  We ask the Lord to take these hard beginnings and build a beautiful testimony that says to all who hear it:

OUR GOD REDEEMS 

He does. 

And He will.

The master puzzle maker, the ultimate worth-giver, the lover of His own.

The "Christian Vacation"

Recently, I've read and heard a good bit of scrutiny of short-term mission trips.  This could be because it's summertime in the US and many of my friends, or  the children of my friends, are fund raising for short term trips.

Once, a fellow missionary shared with me that short-terms teams just get in the way and bog down her schedule.  She saw my mouth agape and quickly followed up with a long list of all the reasons they are a blessing but, the cat was out of her proverbial bag by then.

Even Dave Ramsey, an author and financial teacher I greatly respect, referred to short-term mission trips as "A Christian Vacation".
In one of his radio bits, he balked at the way some Christians want to go help in other countries for very short amounts of time and they want YOU  to pay for it.   For some people, maybe that's the scheme. I can't speak for anyone going on a short-term mission trip nor can I address the motivation of his heart. 

Speaking purely as a parent, I loved the fact that two of my own children got to spend time on the field in Mexico, Romania, The Dominican Republic and The Philippines.  Those trips laid groundwork for the eventual moving of our own family to the field and, at the time of the short trips, we had no idea God was preparing them for it.  But He knew. 

What I CAN do is give you some pretty darn good compelling reasons why my family and I - missionaries to street children in The Philippines - LOVE having visits from "short termers".   I'd also like to share the benefits I perceive that the "short termer" might walk away with after a visit to a developing nation. Some of these are so obvious I feel slightly stupid even typing them but if even one person wrestling with whether to COME to the filed or just send money instead decided to actually come out here, I will sleep with a smile on my face tonight.

So, here it goes . . .

From the missionary's perspective, a team or small group of short term missionaries provide:

1. A Pep Rally - Just as in every facet of life, it's easy to fall into a routine and start going through your days a little numbly.  When visitors arrive at our ministry and we get to introduce them to the children, tour the areas our street kids used to live and talk about our plans for Mercy House, the fire in our hearts gets rekindled for what we are doing.  We are snatched from the mundane and reminded of the great things God has tasked us with.  And as much as we love seeing visitors get teary-eyed when we share the stories of our kids with them, we ourselves are choking back emotions and some of those emotions are gratefulness that we have, once again, been reminded of "the bigger picture".

2. A Chance to Teach- Anytime I'm talking to a visitor, especially a teen or young adult, I keep in the back of my mind that this could be a future missionary.  I am careful with my words so as not to discourage the listener nor to imply that anything apart from sharing the saving Good News of the atoning death of Jesus is paramount here.  It is easy to get "sidetracked" by meeting the felt needs of children who have lived horrible lives and to forget that, without the component of the gospel, we are wasting our time.   The chance to impress that on a short-term missionary is a golden opportunity I never want to miss.

3. The Ability to Spread the Fire - short term visitors will often return to their countries of origin with a huge heart for the ministry we have here. They will tell others, they will fund raise, they will encourage their friends to come.  This is vital to our sustainability.  Yes, God provides but He often uses the passion of short term visitors as the vehicle for our provision.   We need that.

4. Simple Friendships- It can get lonely out here on the field.  Making new friends is not as easy as it was in our old lives. We welcome those lasting friendships that can be spawned by serving side by side.


And some of the Blessings we hope our visitors will receive are .  . . .

1. A Cross-Cultural Experience-  Everything from the food to the restrooms is different in The Philippines.  It's so good for people to step out of their comfort zones and live on someone else's turf for awhile.  Yes, it's hard. Yes, you make a ton of silly mistakes that leave the locals snickering at you.  But, oh, the vast stores of knowledge you gain just by simply being away from all that is familiar.  They are priceless.

2.A Better Understanding of True Poverty- I remember joking about being "too poor" to eat out after church on Sunday when we lived back in America.  I never joke about being poor anymore.  Poverty is a brutal trap and it is much different from not having extra spending money.  It means not having the basics - food, clothing, clean water, medicine when you are sick, supplies needed to go to school.  I learned that living here.  It is our hope that short-term visitors will walk away with a better understanding of true poverty and that it is not always because the poor are lazy.  The poor in The Philippines are usually VERY VERY hard working - taken advantage of by their employers sometimes - and continuing to work manual jobs in intense heat because they know it means survival for them and their families.  Okay, sorry. Off the soap box.  This is something so dear to my heart and, maybe if you'll come and visit us, it will become dear to yours.

3. An Opportunity to Unplug and Listen- Internet out here is spotty and slow.  Visitors are not allowed to be online in our center for more than a few minutes a day to update family and friends.  Those components work together to help unplug our visitors from technology.  And on the field, that's a  GOOD thing.  It's hard to absorb what is going on around you with ear buds in your ears blasting
and youtube videos parading across your line of sight.  Thankfully, there's little time for those things on a short term trip. And you might be surprised how little you miss them when you're here.

4. Doing What You Were Created For- Yes, of course you can do what you were created for - worshiping and sharing your Savior - while in your own country. And you should!  Daily.  But there is something about being with people from a culture other than your own that removes the barriers of fear and makes people bold.  The communication barriers (although many here speak English) somehow help fear to diminish and boldness to creep in.  And when you have experienced truly, verbally, boldly sharing the gospel with a soul who  needs to hear about forgiveness, you are never the same.  That is something you take with you no matter what country you are in and, hopefully, continue to share.

So, if you are praying about going on a short-term mission trip and feeling like it may be a waste of time and money, PLEASE consider some of the points I've brought up here - and that they are coming from a real, live missionary living in a real, live developing nation.  And then write your support letters, have your car washes and bake sales, pack your bags and hop on that plane.  If God allows even ONE of these points above to become a reality in your own life, I think you will find it well worth the effort.

From the missionary perspective, I know we will.   So thank you, on behalf of all missionaries,  for considering, for praying, for stepping out in faith and for leaving your comfort zone to come and get your "hands dirty" for awhile. 

We hope to see you soon!

Who needs CHURCH?

"Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up gathering together as some are in the HABIT of doing but encouraging one another. All the more as the Day approaches."  Hebrews 10:24-25

I need church.  So do you.

On Saturday, I had a very difficult day.  One of our shelter residents had an emotional home visit,  and another was signed over to us by a parent.

We took our social workers to lunch and, on the way out, decided to buy lunch for three street boys who were hanging around the restaurant.  After we handed them the bags of food, four or five OTHER street boys who had been watching from a distance came running over.  An older boy tried to take food from a younger boy.   Our social worker had to intervene.  The older street boy was clearly mentally challenged and a bully. The others were afraid of him. We had to stand between him and the child who's food he was going after (despite the fact that we had given him something of his own) while the younger child walked away. 

I watched these children - filthy, shoeless, hair dyed orange and cut in some crazy styles- and after the hard day I'd already had, all I could think was   "I have no idea what I'm doing here and I don't want to deal with ANY of this  anymore." 

I don't want to watch kids fight over food, or parents sign away their rights, or siblings crying because they want to keep their little brother with them but we have to take him back to Mercy House.

I want to be near my children in America, who are getting ready to start college.  I want to drive to Wal Mart and buy things that aren't on my list.   I want to run into friends there and chat while we block the isles with our carts and have to say "oops, sorry" and move out of the way.   I want to drink tap water.  I want my kids to have their old friends back.  I want a steady pay check every two weeks and insurance provided by the company. 

But that was Saturday.  Today is Monday and what happened in between was pure grace.

CHURCH.

Church is what happened.

I walked into my church with the burden of Saturday crushing my spirit.   I walked out with the peace of Christ making me feel lighter than ever.

I listened to the message from 1 Samuel, about Hannah and Elkanah and the giving BACK to the Lord of their son, Samuel.  I sang praise songs that talked about the goodness of God and how much He loves us.  

And my church is not perfect. There are  things I would change. There always have been in every church I've ever been a part of.

If I let my critical spirit take over, I would surely not go to church anywhere ever.  I would sit in judgement with my arms crossed and wonder if every element is necessary or even Biblical.

But in the place of desperation,  I am changed.   I can not wait to get to my church and just think about Him, and unburden, and refocus and remember WHY we are here and doing what we are doing. 

So maybe you feel like you don't need church. Maybe you think you're closer to God "sitting by a river".  Maybe you think the music is too loud or the chairs are too hard or the sermon is too long.  Maybe you think the people are phony or they don't have the same passion that you have.

I know. I've been there.  Too many times.

But the recent events of life coupled with an understanding that when the Bible says something, I need to do it, no matter how I FEEL about it, have given me a new love and appreciation for the assembling together of Believers.   I need them. I need to hear any good word about my Savior.  I need uninterrupted time to think about Him.    

We all do.   Don't get to the end of your rope before you obey what has already been commanded.

Go to church.   Trade in those critical eyes for a grateful heart.  

And be amazed at the goodness of our God!

I Can't Change THAT

I'm in a unique position that I wonder if I share with any other Philippine adoptive parent.  Probably so.

Our family had the distinct pleasure of adopting from The Philippines FOUR TIMES while we were living in the United States.  All four adoptions were  individual and happened over a span of six years. 

AFTER being an international adoptive parent, my family was called to full-time service of orphans in The Philippines.
We have now lived in Silang, Cavite for almost a year. We have worked with children in orphanages and we now run a shelter/orphanage for children ages 3-13.

We have lived in two very interrelated camps.  One "life" in the adoptive parent camp and one " life" in the child caring agency camp.

And although we still have so much to learn in BOTH arenas, I have learned something so valuable, so vital that I believe every adoptive or pre-adoptive parent should know it.

I believe, as an adoptive parent, I had a LOT of unrealistic expectations of the child caring agencies that sheltered our kids.
I want to share some of those with you and encourage you, if you are waiting, to adjust your expectations and understand the limitations of a child caring agency, even the very best ones in the world!

CHILD CARING AGENCIES CAN NOT . . . 

...promise your child will not have undiscovered learning challenges.
Children in care are almost always delayed in the areas of speech and learning. I have found this to be true in my own adoptions and I see it with the children in our care.  The big question is "WHY?".  The short answer is "we don't know".  I would suspect that some of our kids have birth  parents of low intellect and that may contribute but, considering that MANY adoptees catch up academically, that doesn't account for all the delays.  My heart tells me that kids who don't have permanency in their lives - meaning a "forever family" just have trouble learning and developing.
God created children to live in families and be raised with a mom and  a dad who cherish them. When that design is varied, I believe the child does not reach his highest potential.  
We have home tutoring with our children here daily. They are preparing to attend our local public school in June. I know that the children we have are "smart kids" but they are also painfully illiterate, for the most part.  This is not due to lack of effort on our part. I long for them to find their "forever families" and then to hear,  in time, of the great gains they will make.  Until then, we do the best we can to help them.

...ensure your child will be a Christian.
This is an unfair expectation to place on any child caring agency.  The fact that an orphanage is run and staffed by Believers does not mean your child is a Christian and will behave as such.  GOD draws hearts to Himself in His way and in His time.  I can assure you that a child in our care is prayed with and prayed for. He participates in daily devotion and Bible reading.  He attends church.  Does he have a personal walk with Christ  wherein he has come to the Lord for forgiveness of sin and a new heart?   We don't know for sure. We hope so, we pray so.  And if he hasn't yet, we pray that He will.

...know for sure that your child does not have a physical disability.
I have heard of several cases where a child, after adoption, is discovered to have a  disability not noted in his file.  Maybe some child caring agencies try to "cover up" problems to get a child placed but I believe that is a rare occurance.  Most likely, the disability was undiagnosed because your child received medical care in a country that is not quite as advanced, diagnostically, as the country he was adopted to.  The children in our care receive check ups, vaccinations and dental care.  If we suspect something significant, we will have it investigated.  Some issues simply do not "show up" well in group care.  If a child is having tiny, mini seizures, it may look to caregivers like he is daydreaming and not raise suspicions.  If your child has hearing loss but has learned to lip read and/or "follow the crowd", a caregiver may not key in to that.  If you adopt a very young child, the chances increase that he/she may have a delay or challenge not yet manifest well enough to raise concerns.
Most child caring agencies in which we have worked, and now in  our own, do due diligence to make sure special needs are known prior to placement. Sometimes that doesn't happen.  It is unfair to judge your child's orphanage harshly for not noticing what YOU notice. It happens from time to time and is never easy. Although we are human and make mistakes, keep in mind that our God is not and never does.  He knows who needs to come to your table and maybe, just maybe, He veiled that issue from the eyes of your child's caregivers and revealed it to you for YOUR own faith walk.  Maybe.

..."westernize" your child.
This can be a sensitive issue. I can be an insensitive blogger.  I'll do the best I can here. 
I'm a white American. My husband is a Filipino. There ARE cultural differences, plain and simple.  Some adoptive parents probably believe it is the responsibility of the orphanage to prepare a child for adoption so thoroughly that the child slides into Western culture seamlessly.  I disagree.
The kids in our care know how to use the restroom (which they call the "CR") like an American if needed. We have toilet paper and rims on the seats for sitting.  So far, the kids we serve prefer to squat on the rim, barefoot, and not to use tissue. They wash their bottoms with a "tabo" - a plastic sauce pan of water- and air dry.  It's their way.
We use silverware here at every meal but some of our children ask permission to eat "Kamayan" - with their hands. Again, it is what they are used to. 
Our kids squat at circle time rather than sitting "criss cross applesauce".
The older kids know how to hand wash and hang out clothing. One of our girls is very good at it.
They will come to you, depending of their ages, with a whole lot of years lived in Philippine culture. This is a rich and distinct culture.
Some of the things they do here may get them teased by their peers in their new lives. other habits may simply annoy you as a parent, still others are just fine left alone. It is not the job of the child caring agency to decide which cultural behaviors are "okay" and which are not.  Please speak kindly of your child's caring agency even if he/she is not the least bit "westernized" when he/she comes home. In time, it will come. 

HERE ARE A LIST OF THINGS WE CAN DO . . .

love your child
provide food,clothing and shelter
make sure he gets dental and medical care
send him/her to school
tutor him at home
tuck him in at night, with hugs and kisses
help him begin to learn right from wrong
hold and reassure him he is more than "just an orphan" when he is teased
tell him/her how precious he/she is every day
read the Bible with him
remind him that God made him, he is special and he has a big purpose
 
And I'm proud of that list of "cans". It is a privilege to have such an opportunity with a child who we know is not ours forever. It's a hard job and a precious one.  It takes a lot of diligence and discipline to keep focus. It would be easy to get lazy and take shortcuts but we will not. 
We are accountable to the Lord.
We are accountable to future parents.
We are accountable to that child.

So, please go gently with your child's orphanage. Give the benefit of the doubt. Believe the best and pray for the staff and caregivers. Their job is so difficult and yet of the utmost importance.   If you have criticized unfairly, apologize. Set it right.
If you have found just cause for criticism or uncovered egregious errors committed with intent, there are venues for addressing that, talk to your adoption agency directly.
But I beg you to be fair.  Adjust your expectations and even be GRATEFUL.  Your child was taken in when so many remain on the streets.  Your child was fed when many starve.  Your child made it all the way from a developing nation, rife with human rights issues, into the safety of your arms.  . .
                                     THANKS TO A CHILD CARING AGENCY SOMEWHERE FAR AWAY

  

Street Kids and a Mommy's Heart

For almost a month now, I have had the distinct privilege of being a "mommy" to  a bunch of children who used to live on the streets.
As I get to know them, I truly can not believe they ever begged, dug in the trash for food, sniffed "rugby" from plastic bags and bottles or slept in public places in the day time while wandering most of the night.
They are CHILDREN just like yours and mine.  

Haircut Day for Mercy House! 

 They love to do many of the same things other kids their ages love to do.  They want to be outside playing ball, coloring with sidewalk chalk, trying their luck on the skateboard or roller blades or inside coloring and watching cartoons.

But they have borne heavy burdens in their young lives and there are scars.

The children, in the first few days of coming into Mercy House,  showed us what the heart of an uncared-for child  looks like,up close.
                                                                  And it was a bumpy transition.

They fought and argued with one another over EVERYTHING from who got the "red cup" to who took the first shower.  They had absolutely no idea how to play with toys.  They simply hoarded, sat on and hid the things they liked and did not play but protected the items fiercely.
They over ate at every meal.
They stood stiffly when hugged and did not come to us for affection or help with anything.

One of our boys, who has a history of using inhalants to get high had a very challenging experience when our handymen were here. One of them brought with him "vulcaseal", the very item our boy used to inhale to get high when he was living on the streets.  One of our older sons saw this young boy staring at the can of vulcaseal and said to him  "what are you staring at?". 
Our new boy began to cry hysterically and say in his language, "I don't want any!  I wasn't going to get any!" over and over as he ran to the other side of the yard, sunk down and sobbed.
I did not understand his reaction then and, to be honest, I don't understand it now.
Most of the kids who inhale "rugby" here do it because the high over rides the hunger pains. 
Maybe our boy was just having a flashback to what it was like to be hungry. Maybe he was missing the streets. Maybe he was thinking of the friends and siblings he left behind from those days.  We may never know.  He didn't want to say. And that's alright.

Just this week, this very boy has started to open up.  He shared with me some of what he endured on the streets. He talked about the abuse his sister suffered at the hands of a drunk relative- abuse that he witnessed.
He has started to hug me first.
He let me hold him when he was crying and he came to me with a scraped foot! 

And I am trying to figure out how to draw lines and boundaries with these children.  Our hope for all of them is that there is a capable, loving relative who can care for them in the future.  We are meant to be more permanent than the shelter where the police bring the children but still temporary.   If they are declared legally abandoned in court and then become available for adoption, we will work with a partner agency that is licensed to place. 

Two of the children at Mercy House have started to call us "Mommy" and "Daddy".  I know, this is not good.  I didn't like the idea of any of my adopted children calling their former caregivers those names.  I should correct these two.  But they hear my other children calling us these names and I feel cruel saying they are not allowed to do the same.  But it seems confusing to let them.

What if nobody ever comes for them . . . ?  
What if somebody does . . . ?

But my mother's heart is struggling not to make promises or declarations.

I love these kids.  Is it okay to tell them that?   I hope so.  I already did.

Zeke and Ky with 5 of the MH kids

But in all of the learning and wondering and the throes of the daily schedule - which goes from slightly crazy to all-out chaos to a few minutes of peace toward the end of the day, I have to ask myself that t-shirt worn cliche
"what would Jesus do?".

Then it becomes more clear. 
He would love with reckless abandon.  He would say "I love you" to the hurting child. He already has and He's using me to do it, too. 
He would let them call Him "daddy".  Because we already do.  And we have earthly fathers and there's no confusion there as to who is whom.  He would assure them that they are safe in His care.  We know WE are.   He would remind them how beautiful and valuable and pleasing they are to Him, even when they stray.  He tells me that in His word.

So I pray my Mother's Heart for the street child is in keeping with His heart for me.  As flawed and imperfect as I am, I am asking Him to love the street child through us.  To show us what that looks like on a practical, day-to-day level and to keep the boundaries in place.

We are learning but this is no pilot program.

These are lives, real and precious.


Lord, make us your hands and feet and keep us from doing any harm.


For YOUR great fame.

Letting Go . . . He's Already God

I always found the phrase "Let Go and Let God" to be the worst kind of cliche. It sounds great on a bumper sticker but upon closer analysis, it is just plain old rotten theology.  Who am I to "LET" God do or be or accomplish or change anything. He's God.  His word says His plans can not be thwarted.   I don't "allow" him to do anything.  I can simply be used in His plans or sit idly by while He uses others to accomplish the things He was going to do all along.

With our without me.

The phrase might more accurately be stated "Get on Board or Get Out of the Way"   or "Go Big Or Go Home".

In the case of our 15 year old son, Lem and his biological brother, Ariel, we decided to "Get On Board".

If you are my friend on facebook, you've already had a condensed version of the events that brought Ariel in to our family. In fact, just YESTERDAY we were able to pick him up from Children's Garden and bring him  into our home.   I still can't believe he slept here last night, in his bunk bed.  His clothes are in the closet next to Lem's.  He and I had coffee and pan de sal (bread) together for breakfast and I still feel like I'm dreaming.   I am the mother of seven.  Six sons.  I don't mean to get hung up on the numbers but "more than we ask or imagine" is part of the verse that comes to mind.

 

Ariel (white shirt, gray hat) with Lem (purple), Kyle (maroon), Pastor Buddy (black jacket) and three current residents of Children's Garden

Ariel and Lem outside Children's Garden

My amazing sister in Christ, Sharon, saying goodbye to Ariel

In the midst of bringing Ariel home, Aaron and Elliana were invited to stay at Children's Garden for four days and participate in their street outreach program.  They readily accepted that offer and are there right now. I'm so grateful this chance came up for them.

Aaron and Elliana at Children's Garden, right where we left them . . . ha ha

We picked up our dog, Asia, from  a missionary family leaving the field yesterday, too. She's a yellow lab, 3 years old, with a sweet disposition.  I sure have missed having a dog around the house, although I haven't missed the shedding and she sure does shed!

Update on James, out gate guard:
If you're not a FB friend or haven't seen my recent post, our gate guard, James, shot himself in the foot and leg by accident last night.  He is of the Muslim faith and from Mindanao. He's a very handsome, dark skinned young man with a wife in Manila. He lives and works here to provide for her.  Anthony, Lem, Ariel and Francis went to the hospital to visit James as soon as we heard the news. He was standing outside the hospital, in pain, waiting for someone to help pay his bill so he could leave.   Anthony felt led to help out and then to take him to the pharmacy to get his medication.
We know we can not attend to every need that comes to our attention but we also know that without meeting FELT needs, we have no right to speak into people's lives.   That's just how it works.

James 2
What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.

James, our Gate Guard (far left, black shirt) with Lem and Ariel

No, I don't believe good deeds save us but they are outpouring of genuine faith.  If James doesn't see us as people who are genuine in our faith, why on Earth would he ever be attracted to it?

In the midst of all this change and busyness, our precious Kyle turned twelve years old today.  We are off to the movies to celebrate.
Last night, we had cake and he woke up to a skype session with his best friends from North Carolina!  What a day already!!!

Thank you, brothers and sisters in Christ.  Your praying and giving are already enabling us to serve in ways we really hadn't anticipated but are so thankful for.   I have never been this humbled.

What a privilege! 

No Cure for Orphan Fever (or "Offense Taken")

 Just when you think you've convinced your last fan that you are not a "saint"  a "good person" or "amazing" because you grow your family through international adoption,  it's time to turn the tables and start convincing the world that you are not a "trafficker", a person with "orphan fever" or a "child collector". . .

I think I prefer deflecting undue praise!


A recent article by David French (http://www.christianpost.com/news/left-launches-attack-on-evangelical-adoption-94832/) outlines a new wave of criticism coming from the "naysayers"
and heading straight for YOU,  evangelical Christian and adoptive parent!

What, you might ask, bears defending in the world of adopting children?

Apparently, everything.

In her new book, "The Child Catchers: Rescue, Trafficking and the New Gospel of Adoption", Kathryn Joyce parades, for your reading enjoyment, the worst-case-scenarios in international adoption and makes them seem the rule, rather than the exception. Trafficking. Young mothers having babies stolen from them. Greedy, imperialist Christians buying babies from "brokers" in the name of proselytizing.  An unwillingness to look deeply into their own adoptions for fear of finding . . .dun dun dun . . . THE TRUTH.   Men like Russell Moore and Dan Cruver being held accountable for infecting thousands with "orphan fever".

You can read an article on this very subject by Kathryn Joyce HERE

In all fairness to Ms. Joyce and others who have jumped on the Christ-Followers-Who-Adopt-Children-Are-Worse-Than-A-Case-of-The-Shingles mentality, I have only read large excerpts from her book as my hardcover copy is on it's way.  But the article referenced above does a plenty-good job of giving you a taste of the book. 

And I had to think long and hard about spending money on such negative press but also felt it important investigate fully why giving my sons a name, a heritage and a place to call "home" was such an offensive act.

"Mother Jones" did an excellent job of cluing me in to the foibles that result from my burning case of "orphan fever" on her blog at: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2013/04/christian-evangelical-adoption-liberia

If that blog post isn't enough to convince you that our very motives are under attack, just do a google search using words like "evangelicals, orphan fever, trafficking in christian adoptions"
and then sit back and enjoy the firestorm.

But, Church, listen up!

Some of the criticism is DESERVED and LEGITIMATE. We need to own it.
There are many documented cases of children being taken from poor women by coercion and sold to American parents. Believers and Non.    This was not something the adoptive parents were told and often these facts came to light after the adoptee executes her own search as a teen or adult.
Anyone remember Guatemala?

Adoption "professionals" abroad have given voice-scrambled expose interviews admitting to some pretty unethical, horrific practices to meet the demand for . . . . wait for it . . . healthy BABIES.
Young, tiny, helpless (most often female) infants.

The law of supply and demand, baybee . .  . plain and simple.

So how can you be sure that your child is a "true orphan"?  I addressed this very issue quite thoroughly (in my humble opinion - ha ha) in an older blog post that can be seen  HERE

 But just in case your "clicky finger" is on the fritz, let me recap:

The best chance of being SURE the child you are adopting is a true orphan comes when you:
1. Adopt from a Hague Convention Country
2. Adopt an older child
3. Adopt a child with special needs (and I don't mean "attached earlobes", folks . . REAL special needs)
4. Repeat steps 1-3

I realize this can and will ruffle some feathers, even among my Evangelical sisters.  Many of you literally do "rescue" children from places where neglect and starvation dominate the lives of these kids and a short life span is due, almost entirely, to the sins of the government and caregivers.  I think those adoptions fall squarely under point #3 above.  Even in a Non-Hague country.

But let's face it, friends.  Even if we are as careful as possible and only adopt from Hague countries and only special needs children and no newborn babies, we will still face criticism.

Why?

Because The Word has told us so.

John 16:33

English Standard Version (ESV)

³³ I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

And

John 15     18“If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you.19“If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you."

So I join with throngs of other Christ-followers and do that to which I am called: 
caring for orphans, claiming the fatherless, opening our home and sharing what we have with those who have no home, calling my boys "sons" and knowing, in my deepest parts  that it is not the path to salvation for me or them.  It's an honor and a privilege for me.  It's a new family tree for them.
It's the only thing to do when you know . . . the only thing.