The Giver, Not the Gift

This is quite possibly the only post of this nature I will ever write.

First, because it GREATLY contradicts my philosophy on missions and guilt and friendships and money. It's uncomfortable.

And, second, because I vowed early on never to be "that" missionary but here I go . . .

A couple of months ago, I was listening to a podcast by David Platt. He is NOT the guy you want to listen to if you enjoy  complacency in your faith walk or if your comfort zone is a place  you've planned to occupy until there's nothing left to binge watch.

Yes, the guy who wrote "Radical". That's the one.

So, he quoted Leonard Ravenhill, a British pastor who was openly critical of the First World church until his death in 1994.  And here is the quote:

Cringy? Convicting? Annoying?  It's going to hit different people in different ways.

I PROMISED early on in the life of our ministry here in The Philippines that I would not be that missionary. . .you know the one.  The one who comments about how giving up your Latte for a month could provide clean water for the Hookabooka people for seven centuries (I made that up but you know the type).  I very much do not want to be the missionary that makes her friends feel guilty for going to Disney World six times a year while kids languish in the streets of Asia eating from trash cans.

I'm not the Holy Spirit. 

I don't convict people.

I don't decide how fellow Believers distribute their God-given resources. 

But IF this quote by Ravenhill is to be believed, the Body of Christ has to do better.  We have to.

That includes me.  

I know what you're thinking. 

"Ah, giving must be low at Mercy House right now so it's time for Nikki to pull out the big guns".

And I respond to that,

"Not at all. This is not about our ministry alone and it's not about  'getting more money' out of

first world Believers. 

It's highly probable that I'm "preaching to the choir" here because the people who take the time to read a blog post about missions are probably already giving sacrificially, serving locally and praying fervently for the gospel to go out worldwide.  

This post is for YOU.  First world Christ followers. It is solely intended to benefit you. Not our ministry or any other ministry.

Check this out:

I recently did a short study on Philippians.  Chapter four contains a couple of the most quoted (and misquoted) scriptures in the Bible. One of them is Philippians 4:19 which reads

"and my God will supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory in 

Christ Jesus"

Missionaries LOVE that verse.  Anything that reminds us that God cares about our needs and will supply them is balm to our living-on -love gifts souls.

But Paul did not write that verse for himself or his fellow missionaries. That scripture was for his supporters!  Read the whole chapter. Paul is praising the church at Philippi for being his ONLY supporting church and reminding them he is not seeking more "stuff" from them but that he is seeking the fruit of the gospel.  Paul reminds the church at Philippi that the fruit of his work is to THEIR credit. 

How beautiful is that?  

The gospel goes out and the messenger is not given the credit but the ones who support the messenger are.  

I love God's economy.  

It's nothing like the world's.

The "silent partners" are the ones in the spotlight . They are the ones for whom God will "supply every need".  

That makes my heart sing. 

How desperately I want the Lord to bless every Believer who invests in missions. And His word says He will. He will provide for your needs as you provide for those who GO.

As I type this blog post, my mind travels to some precious faces in the First World. I imagine you sitting down at your computer and clicking on our web site to give. I imagine you writing a check, getting a stamp and giving "old school" through the regular mail as you think of us and share your resources with people thousands of miles away who don't have their basic needs met and who do not know the saving love of Jesus.

And I am smiling right now.

I don't know if the quote by Leonard Ravenhill is true. I suspect for many it is. 

But for those who do sacrifice for global missions, I believe God IS providing for your needs. He said he would.  His word is trustworthy. 

And if God has pricked your heart while reading this blog post, can I ask one tiny favor?

Don't stop feeding your pets! 

Adoption is Not the Gospel

There. I said it.   It has been  gnawing at my heart, mind and spirit for nearly a decade and I was never brave enough to put it in type and own it.  Now I am. And I will say it again.

Adoption is NOT the gospel.   The gospel is the gospel.

I am a four-time adoptive mother. I am an orphanage director. I love and support adoption and find it a beautiful picture of the growing of a family through an avenue not dictated by biology. It's an act of obedience for the families called to it. It's an adventure in "dying to self" that we might never experience any other way.

For many families, adoption is the will of God. It yields blessings too many to number. Yes! God does set the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6) and He calls us to look after orphans and widows (James 1:27)


But it is not the gospel.


Countless books, posts, summits and quotes tout "adoption is the gospel" or is as close to the gospel as a picture we could paint with our flesh here on earth. And I disagree. And I realize I'm nobody and I am disagreeing with the likes of John Piper, Russell Moore and numerous   learned scholars who could bury me in any argument any day of the week with all but one brain cell tied behind their backs.

But, folks, I don't see it. And I have adopted. I love my adopted children to the ends of the Earth.

The gospel, my friends, is the sacrificial death of a holy, perfect God on the cross for sinful, undeserving man.  The gospel is the ONLY hope for hell-bound sinners (that's all of us, by the way) to find life outside of the condemnation we all deserve. 

So where, in this list of descriptors of the gospel of Christ, does the Earthly picture of adoption show up?  Are we, the adoptive parents, the representatives of Christ? Are we saving our adopted children from a literal or theoretical "hell" when we adopt them? Are we laying down our very lives for the purpose of bringing children into our families?  It might feel like it some days but, I assure you, the act of adopting a child will not cost you your literal life. In most cases, anyway. 

And if it did, your death wouldn't pay for a single sin. Neither would mine. 

Wouldn't a more accurate picture of the gospel be we, as adoptive parents, changing places with our adopted children?  We would go live in orphanages as the fatherless and they would be ushered into our homes, no qualifiers needed. We would give up everything in our own lives and just simply hand it over to children who hate us ? Isn't that more in the range of the gospel than us bringing a beautiful child into our homes where we inadvertently get a host of benefits, not the least of which is being able to parent precious children who had no family. 

Adoption is GOOD.  Adoption is BEAUTIFUL and Adoption is HARD.  But when it is equated to the gospel, when it reduces the gospel to something even remotely reproducible by the very recipients of the pure love of God the Father, who had no sin in Him, it falls agonizingly short.  

The same scripture that calls us as Believers to "care for orphans" also calls us to "care for widows". But how many fund raisers have your friends held, how many Go Fund Me pages for the care of widows?  How many of us as Believers are rushing to bring widows into our homes? I never have. It never even crossed my mind to do that.  I wanted more children. That was at the heart of our adoption. Maybe that isn't the case for every adoptive family. But I wanted a bunch of kids. And I got them through adoption. 

Adopting my sons never felt like the gospel. It felt like what it was. Adopting sons. It was exhilarating and awesome.  It was obedience to the call on our family. But the analogy that adopting them was somehow a type of "salvation" for them or for us just felt awkward. And wrong. It's not like what Jesus did. It's what people do. We take care of each other in whatever way God tells us to. 

And where does  "adoption is the gospel" or "adoption is God's heart" leave our fellow Believers who aren't called to adopt children? Do they feel "less than"?  Do they somehow miss the full illustration of the gospel in their lives because they haven't adopted a fatherless child?  I pray they never feel that way.  I pray they understand adoption is a calling on specific families while CARING for the fatherless is a mandate for all of us who claim to belong to the great big family of God. 

Please hear my heart on this. I LOVE ADOPTION!!! I LOVE MY ADOPTED SONS and my biological children with all that I am. 

It is beautiful when the children in my orphanage are united with their forever families through adoption.  It's my heart's desire for the ones who also desire it.

But no human analogy - not adoption, not marriage, not organ donation, not soldiers dying in combat, not people selling all their worldly goods to move to the third world to open an orphanage, not any single act we can engage in can hold a candle to what Jesus did on the cross those 2,000 years ago to reconcile us to God.

That singular act of love, which needed no repeating for a new batch of sinners (unlike adoption which presents a continuous need for new families to reach out to new orphans)  and which could only be satisfactorily completed by God Himself, is final. And incomparable. 

Adoption is adoption. Worthy in it's own way.

The gospel is the gospel. Beauty beyond comprehension, sacrifice beyond replication , good news with no parallel.  

Perfect for the imperfect.  Holy for the sinful. 

Life giving and soul saving in  the only way a human soul can be. 

Adoption is not the gospel. The gospel is the gospel. 

 

 

From One Orphanage To The Next

I recently heard a statement from a friend who is in the child caring world that shocked and saddened me.  This friend stated that when big families adopt, it's like the children going "from one orphanage to another".  The following blog post is decidedly bias. Just know that.

WAIT. WHAT?

That was her exact statement, verbatim. I sat  in confusion for a few seconds but thought to "fix my face" before she looked back at me.  I considered my own family of six children - four adopted and two biological - and wondered if she meant me.  Or someone else. Is six "orphanage numbers" or was that comment only directed at the mega families of 9, 10, 11 or 17 children?  

I said nothing. Because I was offended and didn't want to say something I might regret. 

And then I decided to try and be very diplomatic and evaluate her words carefully, considering the people I know "in real life" who have adopted children and large families, and since I direct and live inside of an orphanage, it was easy for me to compare the two scenarios.  

I see, in some aspects, how she is right. In both my orphanage and the large families I  know well,  there are some glaring similarities:  lots of people, piles of laundry, big grocery bills, the need to take turns in the bathroom, fights over TV shows, the last cookie being a big deal ,  running out of toilet paper at lightening speed , people having to wait a little while to be heard, a fair amount of chores for each child to simply keep the place running . . . and those are different and maybe harder paths than small families walk.  

But then I weighed some other similarities: always someone to play with, likely at least one person to take your side, a dying to self that creates good character when the "me, first" attitude has to go, older siblings to teach younger siblings everything from swimming to shoe tying, younger siblings to teach older siblings to be loving caregivers, a place to try out your gifts and talents in front of a larger audience, and ultimately, more people to love and be loved by. 

And the implication in the statement was that placing my precious Mercy House children into a large family was somehow a disservice to them.    That maybe just keeping them in the first orphanage was sufficient if no small families were considering them  since a large family is pretty much an orphanage.

That,  my friends, is a lie! 

 If I know one thing, I KNOW orphanage life. I believe I run a pretty wonderful orphanage. I truly love the children in our center. I kiss them goodnight and make sure all their needs are met. They are happy, growing, thriving people who are getting to know Jesus and are safe from harm. They LOVE their lives here.  They count. Their opinions matter.  I sit up with sick ones and hold crying ones. 

But I would never even try to submit that my orphanage is better than or even equal to a large family. 

You see, parents in large families, there are some things YOU can give my children that I can not.

A new family tree.  A last name that matches yours. A group of siblings who will be there for him long after you and I are gone. Not leaving for their own adoptive homes.  A place to bring his own children someday that is his REAL home and a family that is his REAL family. Grandparents, cousins, crazy uncles!!! 

We at Mercy House are LIKE a family.                             You, my friends ARE a family.

Don't let anyone discourage you, Mothers of Many, from following your dream of adopting a child. Or a sibling group.  

And you, my fellow orphanage director friends, please consider those large families and don't dismiss them simply based on numbers. Really SEE them.  Each individual member.  I realize some of the children in care NEED to be in a smaller family for a number of reasons. But I truly believe that almost any child can succeed and thrive in a large family. Sometimes better. 

So, if you ever hear a statement  like my colleague made above, whether you are in a large family yourself, a single person or married with one dog and two fish, please defend big families. 

In a world that celebrates all kind of families, let's not forget the large ones. 

You have so much to offer! 

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

Never Enough

Admission Day

 April 19, 2016. The local government in our new town contacted Mercy House seeking help for placement of a 12 year old child who had been on and off the streets for FOUR years. Do the math . . ... FOUR YEARS. That means he began to live the life of a beggar, scavenger, self-protective, "look out for number one" child at the age of eight. Eight . . .

He was so guarded when he came to the center for the first day. He had tears in his eyes but would not let them fall.
The other children tried to welcome him and offer him clothing from their own closets since we live far from the market now, didn't know he was staying and needed a little time before shopping.
He refused the clothing. He tried to fist fight with the biggest resident we have.

On the first day.

He needed to establish himself as "top dog" so he would not be hurt or taken advantage of.
He wouldn't look in our eyes when spoken to.  He would not come when called.  He wanted nothing to do with us.  He asked our caregiver how he might get back to the place where he was in the street. He asked if there was a jeep or a bus from Mercy House to the street. 

We informed him that there is no bus or jeep but, as we tell all the children, we are not a jail. If he would please just stay for one week and if he is still unhappy at the end of a week, we will take him wherever he wants to go within reason.  He agreed.

By the end of the third day, he was coming when called. He gave a few reluctant hugs and started to obey us when we asked him to tend to his personal hygiene.  His resistance was wearing out.

By day five, we asked him if he would like to have a visit to his family home and be a part of some counseling and planning for his new, better, brighter future. 
He agreed to go.

His "home" when he was not in the street

This is the home he led us to. Inside was a mother ready to give birth any day, a grandmother and many young siblings.  We talked and prayed with them and left feeling pretty hopeless. The needs were OVERWHELMING and the notion that this child could ever return here was dismissed. He was not wanted or tolerated. He had caused too much trouble and the family was exhausted.

We Understood.

We expected this child would live with us while we started the long road to either family reunification or adoption. We planned for his school enrollment, had his medical check up completed, fashioned a nice bed, purchased clothing and shoes and prepared for a minimum 2-year stay with us.

And that was fine. It's what we do.

Although this child proved to be one of our more challenging in regard to behavior, and seemed to have little desire to change, we continued to include him in every aspect of life at Mercy House- chores, tutoring, church, devotions - and he made all of those things a LOT harder than they had been prior to his arrival.

And then "Auntie Andrea" arrived from the US.  He liked her immediately. He wanted to sit by her and hold her hand. He showed more affections to her than he had to any of us up to that point. 
Thankfully, she allowed it. And even MORE thankfully, she bought him his very own Tagalog Bible.

We discovered he is an excellent reader!

Auntie Andrea went back to the US and he missed her. But he continued to read the Bible she gave him. He asked us to help him find John 3:16 and Romans 8:28 and Matthew 25:40. This child who seemed to NEVER be listening and rarely to be engaged in his environment was like a sponge, soaking it all in and keeping it in his own quiet way.

And we saw changes in him that we now recognize as a child starting to understand he is loved by God and created for a purpose.

Just a month into his stay with us, the "big boys" of Mercy House were invited to go to a Christian camp a few hours from our center.  He attended.  He came back very excited about the things he had learned. He told us he wanted to follow Jesus and have a life that is committed to him.

We were thrilled. 

Generally, "Daddy Anthony" will counsel with children who are expressing their desire to follow Jesus. We want to be so careful. No "easy believeism"!  We want to make sure they understand what they are expressing and that they are discipled. We want them to know what blessings are bestowed on them at the time of salvation and what the cost of obedience amounts to. 

Before we could have that conversation with this child, we were informed that a relative came forward who knew little of the severity of this child's situation and when she found out, wanted  to assume responsibility for him!

We were happy.
And sad.

This is what we DO. It's our greatest joy when  a child can be united with biological family and raised in his own country and culture. Yes, we love adoption. But it's not "first choice".  

Our hearts were both joyful and heavy as we met together with the biological relatives, local government representatives and realized this family was serious, committed and understood the needs of this child.  I never knew you could have joy and sadness at the same time until beginning this work.

You can.

Our Last Day

So, yesterday, we said "goodbye" to this precious treasure of a boy and entrusted him to his biological relatives. But more than that, we entrusted him to his Creator who still has that plan and  purpose for this life.

But, for me, it just wasn't enough.  Not enough time with this child. Not enough discipleship. Not enough training in manners and study habits and how to be respectful to others.

He wasn't "done" yet. 

I wasn't done yet.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, placed this child in our care for just one month and eight days.

For me, never enough.
For our Heavenly Father, who could do all of this without our help, no doubt, it was
enough.
Please pray for this child and a successful upbringing in the care of his relatives.
Please pray they are humble enough to call us if they need us.
We begged them to.
Part of me hopes they do. The selfish part who really loved getting to watch this boy change and grow. 
Now that I know this boy, I can not imagine him wasting his potential in the street when he is brimming with possibilities.

As always, thank you for supporting our work at Mercy House so we can be here when called upon in situations like this.
Without YOU, praying and giving and keeping us encouraged by reaching out, we're done.
 THANK YOU.


To financially support our work at Mercy House, please click the link below:
Mercy House 

Or log on to: www.mercyhouseph.org under "donate"

Easy Come, Easy Go (And Other Misconceptions)

There has been much "giving" and some painful "taking away" these last few weeks at our shelter for street children, Mercy House.  I am both sad and happy to share the events with you in hopes that your heart for the fatherless will be stirred to prayer and action.

Because we never want to work alone.
And we would not make it here on our own.

If you read my previous blog post, you know that we admitted two boys in mid January. Those boys were right from the street and the older one was already deeply involved in using drugs and collecting revenue from the younger street children by force.

Three of our MH boys. The two new ones are the younger child on the far right and the one in red next to him. 

They stayed for almost two full weeks. They went to school. They attended church and devotions. They rarely presented behavior problems and they gave us hugs and willingly did their chores.
It appeared everything was going well. But the older child asked often to use the computer. He has facebook and used to spend his days on the computer at the local internet store after he begged for (or extorted) enough money to buy several hours.  He was clearly unhappy that we do not let the children at Mercy House be online. We just can't. He asked often to visit his family, although he did not want to stay there. He asked several times if we could provide the siblings some food. We did.
Then, all of a sudden, on a Monday, 12 days after admission, one of my older Mercy House boys brought the two new boys to me. He said "they want to go back to the street."
I thought maybe they were kidding.   They were not.
Mercy House is not a jail and given that the older boy, Mark, had run away from his past shelter more than ten times, I knew he was going to go if he wanted to.  I told them that I wished they would stay but I understood if they couldn't.
And they left, taking nothing but the clothes they were wearing and the flip flops on their feet.
We waited to see if they were coming back after a little walk.
They did not.
So we set out to find them in the streets where we always saw them and, lo and behold, there they were. They came to us with no attempt to run or hide. They knew we loved them and meant no harm.
Mark, the older boy,  was passing out envelopes to the younger street kids called "sobre".  The envelopes have a message written on them asking for money for food. The younger street children are expected to return those envelopes to Mark at the end of the day and he will give them a little bit of money and keep the rest for himself to buy his solvent and computer time.

the envelopes "sobre" that we took from one of our new admissions

The younger child was eager to come back to Mercy House with us. He was dirty, hungry and still wearing the clothes he had on the day before when he left. His flip flops were gone and he was walking between my social worker and I as we took him to McDonald's without even looking back at the group of boys, Mark included, who were calling his name.

always a second chance

While we fed him, he confided in us that he did not want to run away but Mark convinced him they would find his older brother, who he loves and is committed to. This young child wanted his family ties and agreed to leave with Mark. They did find his older brother and after a small meal, this young boy led us to his brother and we spent some good time getting to know them both and their stories.

big brother, Issac, coming from behind a building where the street children congregate

They expressed willingness to come into shelter with us and, since we had already investigated family ties when little brother came to us two weeks prior, we knew there was no capable family willing to care for these boys. There was plenty of family to be found. Just nobody willing. Some had tried and labeled these boys "too difficult" to keep at home, "disobedient" or "pasaway (naughty)".
So they came to us.
But not alone.
They introduced us to two of their friends, another set of brothers. These boys are 7 and 10 and have been on the street for about three years. They also asked for help. We recognized them from the government shelter.

brother one, age 10

brother 2, age 7

These boys were pleading with us to "adopt them".  They shared with us that their father is in jail and their mother left them. They were left in the care of a sick grandmother who could not feed them, so they went into the streets to beg in order to eat.  They met other street children who showed them the ropes and they migrated to Dasmarinas, a place where there is a large community of true street kids - not the ones who go home at night. The ones who have no place to call home.
We have to use great wisdom and discernment in admitting children, rescuing, right from the street.
There is risk in taking children in who have loving parents but just want to sniff and play and be "free".  So immediately upon admission, we inform all the authorities at the local Barangays where these children originated that we have the kids and how any searching family can find us.
We then go to the Barangays within a week of admission to search for ourselves.
Yesterday, we had a very tearful reunion with the ailing grandmother who wanted so much to care for these two precious boys but simply could not.

she was so relieved to see these boys healthy and cared for

my amazing social worker having prayer with the family

And now, we have unearthed a host of new needs and a deeper call to serve. This grandmother has tremors and appears to be extremely arthritic. She told us the older of these two children was her caregiver when he was still in the home. He took her to the restroom. He helped her eat.
There are others doing those tasks now but just seeing our new resident painted in that caregiving light deepened our love for him on the spot.
And that is where we now stand.
One boy gone. Four new boys who need us.
My own personal and somewhat selfish obsession with "the one who got away" . . .

Mark, white shirt, in school where he should still be 

I know in my heart and have always known "you can't save them all". But I so desperately wanted Mark to stay at Mercy House.  He is such a smart boy- academically. He is still a CHILD in so many ways. And maybe we will get our chance. I would take him back.
 Maybe we won't get another chance with him. My prayer is that seeds were planted during his time here that will make him grow to hate street life and long for a relationship with his Heavenly Father.  Maybe I won't even live to see this child become someone different.
Maybe he won't.
But we will continue to pray and reach out anytime we see him.
Upon his admission to Mercy House, my social worker counseled with him like she does every child. They fill out a questionnaire together.  One of the question is "who is at least one person in your life who has helped you?".
Mark's answer:  "nobody".
He can no longer say that in truth.  For that, we are grateful.

Please pray for our four new boys. No longer street children. Now learning to live as sons in a family.  Pray that they came to us in time. Pray that they lose their taste for all things "street" and, as always and most importantly, they see God's hand in their lives and are drawn to Jesus for life.

He gives. He takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

More Than A Street Child

Just a week ago, we received a new client at Mercy House.  He's a lovely boy of 11 years. We fed him on the street several times and he was always polite, appreciative and pretty shy. His name is "MJ".
He drew my heart toward him once when we were doing wound care in the street. A very sick young man was being treated and, while we were treating him, he was asking us for money. MJ kicked his foot and told him in Tagalog "you don't ask people for money when they are already helping you".
And that stuck.
I could not forget that small comment.
It said more than those words I heard.
It said "I have a sense of right and wrong". 

Feeding "MJ" at McDonald's with his tropa (MJ in stripes) 

 So, imagine our reaction when we brought some American visitors to the government shelter for street kids just THREE DAYS after this McDonald's feeding and saw MJ at the shelter. He had been picked up by the city's task force that is assigned to take children off the street. When we saw each other at the shelter, he began to smile and then he hung his head in mock embarrassment, as if to say "they caught me".    We had devotion time with the children there and acted out the story of David and Goliath. MJ was chosen to play Goliath. He stood on a stool and played the part with gusto.
When it was time for Goliath to "die", he kicked his legs in the air and had a fake seizure. The children watching were in stitches.
Just a week later, we pulled into McDonald's again for visit with  the street children who congregate there and, lo and behold, MJ was in the street again. He ran from us and hid around the corner of the building. We went to him and asked why he was hiding. He said he was afraid we were going to take him back to the government shelter or that we would tell on him. We promised we wouldn't do either and brought him some lunch. I wanted to ask  him that very day to come with us and be admitted to Mercy House but my social worker was not available and I wanted to make sure we did it "right", so we said our goodbyes and  left him. My heart was heavy but I was glad he had a good lunch and some clean water to drink. 
The next week, we returned to the government shelter to have a sibling visit for one of our clients, and there was MJ AGAIN!  This time, I was determined not to say goodbye without a plan. So we counseled him on the spot about his willingness to come to us. We talked to him about going to school, having a family setting, getting off the streets for good, giving up sniffing solvent and a host of other things he would need to consider, even at just 11 years old, before he could come to Mercy House.   The biggest request we had of him is that he NOT run away from the shelter for a whole week. We made an appointment to see him a week later. When we returned seven days later. He was there. Waiting. With a big smile and saying he was READY.
So, on October 1st, we were ready too and he became a part of the Mercy House family.

Admission Day at Mercy House 

Admission Day meeting/introduction/orientation

The usual protocol for us when we receive children from the street is to admit them, help them get settled in with an orientation about the rules, an introduction to all staff and housemates and then, when we feel like they are comfortable, we start unraveling their histories, a little bit at a time to find out if there are any capable relatives around who have been looking for these children.
What we found in the case of MJ was a lot more than we bargained for.

His father is in jail. We took MJ to visit him. He loves his father and he began to cry when he saw his father from far off.  But his father will likely never be able to parent him again due to the seriousness of his charges and the time he will serve.  MJ does not want to believe this. He has built a fantasy around his father that does not include a true picture of the man.

We then located his mother and found a homeless woman who often roams around but sometimes lives for free in a public building. She struggles with her own poor life choices and tries to care for several children who decided not to become street children as MJ did. One of them is a 14 year old girl who is extremely ill.

Mj's "big" sister. Please pray for her healing!

When my social worker sent me a brief message and photo during her counseling time with the family of MJ, my heart just broke. I immediately thought of contacting my friend, Claire Henderson, who runs a beautiful ministry to sick and dying children here in The Philippines called "Children's Recovery Unit" or "Helping Hands".  I sent Claire this photo and the diagnosis the mother was given and asked for her input. Her input was one of the most beautiful messages I have read in a long time. It was along the lines of "I will take her in our home in Baguio as well as her drug-addicted mother if she is willing".
Can you imagine???? I was simply asking for advice as this is waaaaayyyy out of our league.
So, we have made plans to transfer this mother and child to CRU for a stay where we are asking you to pray for a few things.
First, for the mother's addiction to drugs to be broken. She told us she has not used them for a time. We cautiously hope she is being honest.
Second, for this beautiful girl to be healed of her illness. If not healed, that her pain can be well managed and her quality of life drastically improved.
Third, through Mercy House and CRU, that this family would be introduced to the love of Jesus and the complete healing of heart and soul that only comes through HIM.
In our ministry,  we are aware that serving a street child is not just serving a street child. It is serving his family, helping him connect the dots of his broken life, finding every family member who has ever loved him, opening doors to hopeful reunification and, after exhausting all avenues locally, exploring the option of a brand new family.  Serving our kids involves partnership with other organizations who are strong where we are weak.  It involves being willing to drive many hours sometimes to obtain help and just trusting the Lord with the outcome.
Because MJ matters so very much. He is a beautiful boy created in the image of God.  There is a plan and a purpose for MJ.
HE IS MORE THAN A STREET CHILD.  So much more . . .

Buried Alive!

I need to share some straight talk with my blogosphere friends today about a dreamy statement I made many years ago. A statement that copious numbers of Believers and just plain old do-gooders make.  A statement of which I had no real grasp  when it was made. One with BIG ramifications:

I WANT TO START AN ORPHANAGE SOMEDAY!!!!!! 

I said those words when I was a teenager.  I said them again in college. I repeated them less-often as a young, busy mother but began to obsess on them after our first visit to The Philippines in 2005.   Finally, after much praying and selling and planning, we started our orphanage.

I love it. I love the work. I adore the children. I have a sense of purpose and usefulness that can only be described as "REAL" but the flip side of this life as Mama-to-Many is not at all like most would imagine.  Most days, I feel I am being buried alive.  And it's ok.

The kids here are wounded by terrible histories of abuse, neglect and abandonment.  They sometimes act out.  They need a LOT more attention than the average, well-nurtured child. They will do pretty much anything to get it.   But I love them. I get to kiss their scars. I get to remind them they are beautiful and valuable and accepted.  Some of them have never felt that before and when they start to believe they are worthwhile,  they almost appear to grow taller before our eyes.  And bloom.

On top of the treasured work of helping the kids heal, there is paperwork. A LOT of paperwork. I am abundantly blessed to have an amazing social worker who is more than capable of doing the bulk of the paperwork but we all have to do our part. The processing of a child for international adoption is a succinct art.  Every document must be properly executed, dated, submitted and updated. We have a strong commitment to making sure the children in our care are ready both legally and emotionally for a new family. This takes a whole"village". Professionals inside and outside Mercy House take part in the task and they take it seriously.   They have to.  It's precious human life.  There is no room for error.

Our precious social worker with some of the MH kids

And aside from the children and the paperwork, I am a wife and a mother. That didn't stop when we decided to open an orphanage.  Unlike some directors, we choose to live inside the orphanage with our own family and our Mercy House family. Why? Because we simply need to be close for the children in care to have continuity. Staff may come and go but it is our prayer that "Mommy Nikki" and "Daddy Anthony" offer a little peek at how it feels to have caring adults who stay.  Our prayer is their only move from our care is into their FOREVER families. It does not always work that way but that is always our goal.  Finding the balance between the roles of orphanage Mama, wife and mother-to-my-own is beyond challenging. Sometimes I have to put off the ones who deserve first place because there are emergencies of the melt-down kind.  Okay, not "sometimes".  "Often". I pray they understand. 

And then there are these street boys. Children taking care of themselves. They are often hungry and always dirty when we go to see them. When I look at them, I envision them in a school uniform, well rested, doing their chores or homework inside Mercy House.  I imagine clearing out a drawer for some clothing for them and getting that first "goodnight" hug when I tuck them in. I can not sleep some nights for thinking of these kids. I have lost a lot of weight since meeting them because, when I know the faces of children who are hungry,  my own food loses it's luster. It is something that is hard to explain if you don't live it.  It hurts a lot. But not nearly as much as being 11 and having no parents protecting you must hurt. We have to do more for these boys.  It is a fire inside me.  I have always believed that if you want to change a society, reach the boys. Help them to become responsible, Godly men and to start a new heritage. I want to be a part of that for these street boys. But it takes time, money and some other priority slipping down the list a bit. Sacrifices.

The issues of handling birth families, staff problems, anyone getting sick and, of course, the fact that we just bought land and are fund raising to build a permanent structure - ALL OF THOSE and more are scoops of fresh earth that have me buried alive.

This is such hard work.
Do I want to quit? Sometimes. Do I miss my life as a happy American driving my own car to Taco Bell and strolling through Wal Mart whenever I want? For sure! Do I feel like I'm only 1/2 alive sometimes for the ache of missing my two oldest children who are in the US? Every day.

But I believe I will never leave. I assume that, someday, I will die here in The Philippines doing this work I love and helping children know their God and find their families.  I will be serving with my husband and whichever of our own children feel called to be here. I wish they all did.

So, friends. When you say "I want to start an orphanage",  I hope you are wiser than I was. I hope the sacrifices and pain don't take you by surprise.  I pray you understand what you are REALLY saying when you utter those words is "Lord, I want to be buried alive".     Because you will be.  And you might even love it.

 

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.

A Bad Word

I remember back in junior high school, having a then-deep and philosophical conversation with one of my equally-deep 12 year old friends about what makes a bad word "bad".

We surmised that we should be allowed to freely use the F-word or the Sh-word or ANY word as long as we didn't deem it "a swear".   We decided, between the two of us, to use these words and see if we could erase their "badness" by insisting they were just sounds and syllables with no inherently evil meanings.    We substituted mundane words with swear words and the sting began to fade.  We laughed long and hard at some of the creative ways we wove our new-found verbal freedom into colorful tapestries.

We ran into problems with this "logic", however, when overhead by our drama teacher during a break between classes.  Apparently, she hadn't self-actualized enough to appreciate the fact that those words were just sounds from our throats. To her, they had definite and unpleasant meaning.    Oh, the shallowness of the adult world!

I have run into many discussions that seem to be about semantics but are about so much more in this life in The Philippines.

Many people here speak English and speak it well. Some of the words here are used based on their meaning, though, with no regard to or even awareness of how the words can be perceived. Connotation matters. A lot.

Case in point:  More than one educated adult here has asked me if Ezekiel is "a mongoloid"?  The first time it happened, my jaw hit the floor. We haven't used that word in the US for at least 30 years. It's considered derogatory.  They are not much on "people first" language here.  Thankfully, I hid my knee-jerk reaction and answered "Yes. He has Down Syndrome".   I understand the language is simply a label and not INTENDED to shoot any hurtful arrows at our family.  The askers always go on to tell us about some precious family member or friend whom they cherish who is also "mongoloid".

Another word that is used often here as a simple descriptor is "retarded".  In test results given by professionals, children are often referred to as "mildly retarded, moderately retarded or severely/profoundly retarded".   I suppose it would be easy to get all riled up but, the core meaning of the word is "delayed in development" or "arrested in development".  And I've never once heard it used as a put-down here. It's just a fact.  A person with a low IQ who is not meeting his milestones on the bell-shaped curve will be labeled "retarded".  So what?  It just lets us know, as workers and as parents that we should adjust some expectations for timelines and give a child some extra grace and guidance. 

My ethnocentric thinking has to die a little each day here. And that's a good thing.

But the REAL reason for this post on words and their impact and who decides what we can and can not say is THIS word:

ORPHANAGE 

If a "parsonage" is where a pastor lives, isn't an "orphanage" where orphans live?  Many cringe at this word.  It's archaic.  It's harsh.  It summons images of little girls in rags singing "It's a hard-knock life for us . . . "    The term "Child Caring Agency" or "CCA" is used here often to describe the place where we live with a slew of unrelated children who have no capable or living parents to raise them. 

I don't mind the word "orphanage".  It leaves no questions.  On the other hand, not all of the children in our care are TRUE orphans. Some are in mid-steam of eventual abandonment.  Some have loving mothers who just have no means to care for them and are trying to improve their lives and receive their children back. One set of siblings here even has TWO biological living parents who are together and working to bring their children home. 

But most don't. 

Most have a story that goes like this: " Mom and dad split up. Mom found a new man. He doesn't want to raise anyone else's children SOOO . . . . I became a street child. I begged and scavenged and eventually got rescued or referred to Mercy House.  I'm an orphan because the adult meant to love me decided having a boyfriend/girlfriend was more important than keeping me safe."  

The second most common story we hear is:  "My dad left us when I was a baby. My mom is in jail (or left us to work far away) and the neighbor/relative she left us with couldn't feed us so she took us to the local police to relinquish us. Mom is never coming back."

It's not the glamorous "both parents died in a small-engine plane crash off the coast to Tibet" story that makes orphans in the movies.  It's just bad adult choices trickling down to injure children.

So, they live in an orphanage, or a child caring agency or a care facility or whatever term suits you best.

The facts are the same. 

We look in the eyes of children every single day who do not have a single somebody in the world saying to them "I will be here forever. You are MINE always. You belong with ME.  We are your final and only FAMILY.  My last name is your last name.  When we go on vacation, you go. When we cry over the loss of a family pet, you'll be right here in the circle.  When the hostess at the restaurant says 'Jones party of 8' - that means YOU, too.   When we pick up that gray-haired lady from Minnesota at the airport and she starts handing out $5 bills, get in line because she is YOUR grandma, also. "

We, at Mercy House, can not, in all fairness, say those things to the children in our care. And Oh, how we love them! We tell them that all the time. We hug and kiss them and tuck them in and tell them about Jesus.  We nurse them when they are sick and teach them the rules of fair play. But we can't say THOSE things unless we want to break trust and be liars.  Or adopt them all.  And I've thought of that, believe me.

I think you get the idea.   Adoption is the cure for the ailing hearts of children who have never been told those things and do not even know, for the most part, that it is what they need to hear. 

How blessed you are to be on THAT side of the equation. I was there.  It was glorious.  Now I'm here. It's both heartbreaking and precious.  I know what these children need most and it is not a better orphanage.  Mercy House is wonderful. It's family-style.  We are proud of the work we do and stand clean before the Lord knowing we are doing the best we can.

But we aren't YOU.

We are no longer an adoptive family with the power to change the world for that child on Special Homefinding.  

We need YOU to say "forever". . . and to mean it.

Will you?  

"FAMILY" . . . now that's a good word. 

 English Standard Version
"So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin."  James 4:17