in case you need more information to rock your world...

Posted by Doug Nichols, founder of ACTION International
http://dougnichols.blogspot.com on November 30, 2010


1. 28 million in slavery worldwide; many are children and victims of human trafficking! 400,000 children are in slavery in Haiti! [“Finding Slavery in My Own Backyard”, by David Batstone. “Missions Frontiers”, September-October 2007 29:5, p.12]

2. 3.2 million untrained or undertrained pastors throughout the world. Pray for missionary mentors and trainers to assist these needy pastors [http://topic.us/].

3. 100 million Christians are living in persecution throughout the world (Persecuted Church) [http://www.persecution.com/].

4. There are 145 million orphans worldwide. If one missionary (or one church) took responsibility for 1000 orphans, there would, therefore, be a need for 145,000 missionaries (or individual churches) [http://viva.org/; http://www.compassion.com/; http:// www.actioncic.org /]!

5. There are 160 million street children, especially in Africa, Asia, Europe, and Latin America. Thousands of missionaries and Christian workers are needed to take the Gospel and compassionate care to these needy children [http://www.actioninternational.org/; http://www.actioncic.org/].

6. 200 million people worldwide are on the move (referred to as the Diaspora) in search of employment and a better education, because of persecution and natural disasters, and so forth. Many are open to kindness and hospitality which opens the door for the Gospel [http://www.fin-online.org/].

7. There are three (3) billion people worldwide with no nearby Christian or church to share the Gospel with them. They can only be reached by someone going to them (missionary) with the Gospel. If one missionary went to 5000 of these, there would be the need of 600,000 additional missionaries[http://www.actioninternational.org/]!

same story, different day...

It would be a terrible lie for me to say that even one day goes by without hearing or seeing a heartbreaking story.  I knew that when I said “Here I am, send me.” I knew what I was signing up for, and I agreed knowing full well how difficult of a struggle it would be.  However, a part of me expected to fix it…all of it, all of the pain, all of the hurt, all of the brokenness, all of it…unrealistically optimistic, I know that, at least my BRAIN knows that but my heart seems to think otherwise.   I’ll admit it, I’m a chronic “fixer” and my head spins and spins until I can find some sort of a solution to satisfy it.   I live with that everyday, no matter where I am, and I’m pretty good at keeping my emotions and actions in check.  But for some reason, I hit a breaking point today…

Ate Ara (another staff member at Safe) and I decided to go shopping in Makati (the business center of the Philippines aka a predominantly wealthy area) for a dress to wear to Safe’s Christmas party tomorrow night.  After coming out of the store/mall that we went to, we had to walk through a VERY wealthy area filled with foreigners and bars and “coffee shops.” Now in all fairness to my ate, she had warned me about the area and how she had previously confirmed that it was a great area for prostitution.  But as we walked through outdoor cafes with lovely music and fountains and beautifully lit trees (a perfect picturesque area) I noticed several interactions.  As an older white man flirtatiously told a young Filipina how maganda (beautiful) she was with a horrible American accent and another older white man walked by holding onto a young Filipina, I noticed my clinched fists and heart pounding as I urged Ate Ara to walk faster and get me out of there as I repeated aloud “I can not break down now….I will be angry later, later, later, LATER!!!” And right before I snapped we escaped and I took a few deep breaths…but only a few before two little boys were holding onto my arm begging for money.   We kept walking until the boys left and walked back to where they had started following us.  As we turned the corner…it hit me…like a huge crashing wave.

And I lost it…right there on the corner of the streets of Makati, I stood sobbing (and not just tears running down my face but the entire works, like the "to the point of hyperventilation and curled into the fetal position until I could barely catch my breath" sobbing).  My lovely ate patiently stood there handing me tissues and patting my back.  I quickly regained enough composure to keep walking.  And in case you're wondering what Filipinos did (since you know they are all watching the "puti" (white person)) as I walked and continued to wipe the tears from my eyes, they all asked “Why are you crying?”…gotta love their compassion/curiosity/wanting an excuse to speak English to the Americana!  But something about hearing that made me smile.  

Oh the injustices of the poor…and how incredibly angry I become when I see foreigners who aren’t doing anything to stop it and how angry I get at myself for seeming to be just like “one of them” because of how tiny and insignificant I feel in this huge sea of brokenness…but thanks to an amazing loving father who for some reason chose me, a little small town girl from NC, to love the unloved and to be broken for the broken.  Yes, I see pain and heartache everyday but I am blessed beyond measure for the ones that I am able and called to love. 

“But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God's very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9

aja!

Time for an update on Jassel, the little girl I talked about in a previous blog: http://daphnecheryl.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-look-like-aswang.html

Jassel has been waiting for 3 years for surgery on her heart.  She was born with a special heart.  Her heart is completely opposite anatomically and the ventricles do not pump properly.  Because of poor circulation, her blood is not as oxygenated as it should be, leaving her to appear blue (aka “blue babies”).  Jassel’s heart formed special veins and arteries in order to bring the blood to and from the rest of her body.

While waiting for surgery, she has had to have multiple blood transfusions to replace her very thick blood with normal thin blood.  The blood that is used must be replaced in the blood bank, therefore, requiring all, who are able, to donate blood as frequently as possible. 

Thankfully, an angiogram was FINALLY performed yesterday (Friday) on Jassel after she was admitted on Thursday.  She was given a blood transfusion today (Saturday).  Therefore, I went with Ate Red (Safe’s National Director) to the Heart Center to donate and replace the blood that was used.  I was able to give and the process was amazingly faster than the last time (even though drug and blood testing was added to the list of pre-donation procedures).  And afterwards came my favorite part again…going to see Jassel.

As we sat and talked, her mother told us how strong she was during the procedure.  Jassel could see the concern and fear in her mother’s eyes and asked the doctors if her mother could come in with her during the procedure (here’s the tear-jerker) so that Jassel could make sure that her mother was okay and hold her hand through it to let her know that she was going to be fine.  Jassel had been through so much in the past 2 days but still held an incredible amount of strength in her tiny body.

We were able to talk to the doctor who gave us an idea of the future plans for surgery, as up to this point there hasn’t been a clear plan and so many “it depends” and “we’ll sees” have put off surgery for far too long.  The doctors are hopefully going to meet next week to review the angiogram results and set-up the next step.  The doctor also informed us that Jassel would be staying in the hospital at least until tomorrow (Sunday) and possibly longer depending on how she is doing.

After the doctor left, Jassel was sad. It was the first time I didn’t see a smile on her face.  Her mother finally told us that she didn’t want to miss the Christmas Party at church tomorrow. As she told us, Jassel began crying.  This precious, tiny girl who has so much courage and is so strong everyday with needles going in and out of her and doctors and hospitals, etc., etc., etc. was so upset that she wouldn’t be at a party.  Ahhh! I was broken….into a million pieces!!! With her keeping her brave face on 24/7 sometimes I forget how fragile she is and that something like a Christmas party could be so important to a little 9 year old. 

It’s times like these that make me frustrated that something hasn’t been done already….3 YEARS she’s waited for surgery but “it’s not bad enough yet.” She is missing out on so many things that most 9 year olds do just because the system isn’t ready to deal with her case yet.  Her not living her childhood the way that she should and could be able to…says that it’s past bad enough.  Hopefully, things will begin to move forward now though and Jassel will be able to run around like the other little girls her age soon. But until then...she'll keep fighting and she'll stay strong...with the help of a SUPER strong God :)

Aja! She's a brave little fighter :)

As you can imagine, the multiple hospitalizations, procedures, and surgery that Jassel has and will be going through are expensive.  Therefore, if you would like to donate specifically to Jassel, please send a check made out to RTP Community Church to P.O. Box 11236, Durham NC 27703 

(Please put Daphne Meeks-Jassel in the memo line).  

Feeling a little Daddy-sick :(

So I’m sure there are several factors that have led to my current sadness: 1. I’m writing Christmas cards, 2. this week/day has been pretty busy and somewhat crazy, 3. Christmas is everywhere!!!! 4. with Christmas comes hunting season (except in Manila because even though guns are everywhere, something tells me they aren’t used for deer) and 5. this is officially my first Christmas away from home…

However, I’m usually calm under pressure, optimistic despite the circumstances, and not homesick…EVER!  And I wouldn’t even say I was homesick now…sorry Edenites, no offense….but I do NOT miss “home” not in the slightest (now my second “home”…RTPCC whadduppp???...yeah, I can’t lie….I miss ya’ll a lotttt!!!!).  But tonight, I REALLY, REALLY miss my daddy…

Most of the conversations that I’ve had one-on-one with the girls at Safe over the past few weeks have been about how much they miss their fathers and how they just want to hear their voice and to make them proud.  The connection the girls are so longing for with their fathers puzzles me.  Despite how incredibly horrible their fathers were to them whether it was beating them, raping them, or selling them, the girls want nothing more than to be able to see their fathers in hope of somehow gaining approval.  They lose sleep at night crying and praying that they will be able to reconcile things with their fathers and have some form of a relationship with them again. 

Now I’ll admit, I’ve been slapped in the face several times over the past month and a half with the vast differences between the way I was raised and the opportunities I was blessed with and the girls at Safe.  But this difference slaps me over and over and over again...I have an amazing and loving and compassionate and Godly father who has sacrificed so much to give me everything that I could ever dream of wanting and more.  When I think about my favorite hobbies, my mind always goes to the things that my daddy taught me and the things we would always do together: camping, canoeing, hiking, fishing, and hunting.  The great thing about my daddy though is that he didn’t just drag me along to do the things he wanted to do. I would stay close by him and listen to his stories and soon his passions became my passions.  I found myself begging to go places with him and getting upset when he went without me.  Until, eventually, I had earned enough trust and proved my commitment enough for him to let me join him.  But I never came along without a step-by-step instruction lesson (“this is where you wanna shoot” (pointing to the mounted deer head), “here is a kill shot, it’ll break his neck and here will bust his jugular,” and my all-time favorite and most valuable one “before you shoot, take a deep breath, let half of it out, hold it and pull the trigger”).

I’ll never forget my first deer…we (just me and daddy) were sitting in the stand and had been for quite awhile when all of a sudden daddy taps my knee and points off into the distance.  We sit and wait for the deer to get closer as I slowly stand up and get ready.  I aim, then I aim, then I aim…until I look to my daddy to get the thumbs-up.  I take a deep breath, let half of it out, and pull the trigger.  Down he went, right where I shot him.  I was shaking with excitement as my daddy says “You’ve got deer fever now don’t ya?”  I was excited but my daddy was even more excited.  We went down to check out the deer…I got him right in the neck, exactly where daddy said to shoot and I broke his neck AND busted his jugular! “Good job Daffy-Roo” (SN: ONLY Daddy is allowed to call me that, DO NOT get any ideas…) with a high-five as he smiled from ear-to-ear. I have never ever seen my dad that proud…EVER (and I graduated from UNC-CH this past May…it still stands, ever). 

I loved that day! I loved seeing my daddy proud of me!  And I can’t help but think that God is the exact same way with us.  He doesn’t want us to do things just because He likes them. He wants His passions to be our passions. He wants us to be so close to His heart that our heart begins to sync up with His.  And then when they do, He wants us to be bold enough to ask for our desires and to trust that He’ll respond.  And then, when He begins to take us along, He gives us step-by-step instructions. And then, in the heat of the action, He lets us know that He’s beside us and will help to remind us if we start to struggle.  And then, He’s gives that huge smile of approval and saying “Well done, my daughter, well done.”

So I miss you daddy…but I thank you for being a wonderful example of God’s heart and love for His daughters.  You took time to teach me and show me things that you didn’t have to and those memories are more valuable than anything money could ever buy.  I’m thankful that you’ve taught me that even when you, my earthly father, aren’t close by that there’s an amazing heavenly father waiting with open arms to wrap His arms around me just like you would! I love you daddy!!!

i vow to love...

I am often asked why I do what I do and when I decided to start doing it.  I’ve struggled with answering those questions because I never really had an “aha!” moment…my heart has been broken for so long that I don’t remember when it first happened but I do remember running across this photograph and story when I was really young. And to say I was broken, would be an understatement…this photograph led to “a wail that swallowed me.”

I remember being so hurt and moved with compassion to run and scoop this tiny frail girl up, hold her close, and find a way to nurse her back to life.  I remember knowing then that I was meant for greater things outside of my small town that I grew up in.  I remember wanting to put on war paint and go marching out to war against the injustices of the world.  I remember fighting back the urge to go on a mad manhunt to find people committing any kind of injustice and make them pay.  I remember crying myself to sleep at night thinking about how unfair life is.  I remember standing up against my parents and refusing to eat just for the sake of starving children.  I remember falling in love with the faces of children I had never even met.  And then I heard the story behind the photograph…

Kevin Carter, a South African photojournalist, had taken the photograph while in Sudan.  While photographing, the vulture hovering over the dying child flew away.  Carter also left the scene, leaving the emaciated girl who was moments away from death lying facedown in the dirt.  Afterwards, the photo appeared in The New York Times and Carter received the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography.  Merely 3 months after taking the photo, Carter committed suicide, leaving behind this letter: 

"I am depressed ... without phone ... money for rent ... money for child support ... money for debts ... money!!! ... I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings and corpses and anger and pain ... of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners...I have gone to join Ken if I am that lucky."

And that is when all hell broke loose within me…how in the world could someone who is within 10 feet of this tiny precious girl just leave her for the vultures to devour???? I was enraged, infuriated, pissed off beyond control!!!

One man, saw a dying child in need, had the chance to change the outcome, had the chance to be the hands and feet of Christ, and chose to do nothing…

Hmmm…stop. breathe. think. Well then, how different are we from Kevin Carter? Not a bit.  Because we've done the same heinous thing when we have the opportunity to share God’s love and instead, we walk away for fear of getting our hands a little dirty.  We turn our back on a dying world that’s destined for hell every single time we pass up the chance to love.  So I don’t have a right to be angry at Kevin Carter at all, because at some point in time, I’ve been (and still am, somedays) just like him…and if all of you are honest with yourself, so are you. 

So when does it stop? When do we quit ignoring injustice? When do we start loving like God loves? When do our hearts start breaking for the things that make His heart break? The answer: when you decide to do something, when you decide to not be like Kevin Carter, when you decide to seek God's heart with everything you have and all that you are....when our hearts are aligned with God's heart, that's when it stops...

i want to be one of them...

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know 

It's more than I can handle 

But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones 

and I can't let it go 

And when I'm weary and overwrought 

with so many battles left unfought 

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard 

I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars 

And when the Saints go marching in 

I want to be one of them 

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind 

it often overwhelms me

but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life

their courage compells me

And when I'm weary and overwrought 

with so many battles left unfought 

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard 

I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars 

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharoh's court 

I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord 

And when the Saints go marching in 

I want to be one of them 

And when the Saints go marching in 

I want to be one of them 

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad 

I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul 

I see the young missionary and the angry spear 

I see his family returning with no trace of fear 

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights 

I see the sister standing by the dying man's side 

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor 

I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door 

I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road 

I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in

I want to be one of them

and when the Saints go marching in

I want to be one of them

I want to be one of them

I want to be one of them

I want to be one of them

"When the Saints" by Sara Groves

i can hear clearly now...(since i finally shut up)

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because the Lord has anointed me 

to proclaim good news to the poor. 

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives 

and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor 

and the day of vengeance of our God, 

to comfort all who mourn, 

and provide for those who grieve in Zion— 

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, 

the oil of joy instead of mourning, 

and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. 

They will be called oaks of righteousness, 

a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. 

They will rebuild the ancient ruins 

and restore the places long devastated; 

they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. 

Strangers will shepherd your flocks; 

foreigners will work your fields and vineyards. 

And you will be called priests of the Lord, 

you will be named ministers of our God. 

You will feed on the wealth of nations, 

and in their riches you will boast. 

Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, 

and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance. 

And so you will inherit a double portion in your land, 

and everlasting joy will be yours. 

“For I, the Lord, love justice; I hate robbery and wrongdoing. 

In my faithfulness I will reward my people 

and make an everlasting covenant with them. 

Their descendants will be known among the nations 

and their offspring among the peoples. 

All who see them will acknowledge that they are a people the Lord has blessed.” 

I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. 

For he has clothed me with garments of salvation 

and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, 

as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, 

and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. 

For as the soil makes the sprout come up 

and a garden causes seeds to grow, 

so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness 

and praise spring up before ALL nations.

Isaiah 61

It's amazing how clearly I can hear You speak when I decide to shut my mouth...

you look like an aswang...

There’s a little girl named Jassel who lives in Welfareville, a slum in Manila consisting of 42 blocks of squatter homes.  She’s 9 and has a heart condition that will eventually require surgery.  Because her heart doesn’t pump properly, her blood becomes super thick and cannot circulate.  So every so often she goes into the hospital for transfusions where they remove her thick blood and replace it with new blood.  However, here in the Philippines, it’s not quite as simple as going into the hospital and asking for a transfusion.  Because the mindset here about giving blood is so twisted and corrupt (many donors require ridiculously steep compensation), each patient who needs a transfusion must have a donor (or in this case 2) to give blood to replace the blood being used from the blood bank.  Jassel went into the hospital Friday night and because her “usual” donors were not able to give (since they had just given blood recently) Marybeth (Naomi’s sister) and I went on Sunday to donate.  After almost 4 hours of waiting to be screened, we found out that Marybeth could not give and since we had to have 2, we decided to save my blood for the next hospital visit (which will probably be sometime next week).  However, God supplied other donors for Jassel and she received her transfusion. 

The best part of the trip was after we decided to wait to donate.  Because then, we went to visit Jassel in her hospital room.  And even though she’s in the best children’s hospital in the Philippines, her room is still shared with 3 other children.  I had met Jassel before but only very briefly and I expected to see her frail body lying in the hospital bed with very little energy and excitement.  However, as soon as we walk in the room, she sits up and smiles the biggest smile I’ve seen in awhile.  She gives Eskimo kisses and crinkles her adorable little nose.  She immediately begins joking around and trying to pull pranks on the nurse.  She critiques us, especially me and my glittery eyeshadow! But quickly stops after finding out that we have the same blood type and she might need my blood later on, haha!  We prayed with Jassel and then left to go back home after a very long day at the hospital.

Later, I found out that Jassel had whispered to Marybeth that I looked like an aswang. Naomi then proceeded to explain to me that an aswang is something like a witch and a ghost combined with prominent features like really pale skin, crazy colored eyes, and wild rambunctious hair.  To which I responded: “Okay, now tell me something that I DON’T have and I might be offended, but as of what you’ve told me so far, I think Jassel is very precise in her description of me.” I don’t see how I could be offended because even in her situation, she can smile and laugh and joke and be mean like any other 9 year old.  I love that about her!

PS: Here’s an artist's depiction of what an aswang looks like…

Haha! So minus the wings, fangs, and nails, she wasn’t far off after all J

Aye, Aye, Aye....

So there's several things that I want to and could talk about in this blog, because every day there's a new lesson to be learned and today has been no different.  But tonight (and all day, really), I just want to cry...

Now, I must admit that under "normal" circumstances even when I'm in the US, I'm usually a cry baby.  Just ask my closest friends, I guarantee you they've all seen me cry.  It's just who I am.  When I'm happy, I cry. When I'm sad, I cry. Even when I'm angry, I cry.  Maybe it's the baby sibling in me, I'm not sure. But one thing I do know is that Manila has taken my crying issue to a whole new level!

Seeing the girls from Safe dance with joy that's only available from our heavenly father during worship, makes me cry.  Hearing the cries and seeing the dirty little faces of street children and knowing that they are just being used and abused, makes me cry.  Listening to Steven Curtis Chapman's stories at the lunch table, makes me cry.  Experiencing the vast disparity of the rich and poor in Manila, makes me cry.  Reading posts from my amazing friends back home who love and support me better than I could have ever asked for or expected, makes me cry.  Missing RTPCC's Friend Day and all of the hype that goes with, makes me cry.  Looking at pictures of my precious jellybean who is growing up so fast and who I miss so much, (yep, you guessed it) makes me bawl like a baby.  Feeling so insignificant and ineffective when I think about the millions who are suffering yet knowing it's all worth it just for the one, makes me cry.  Knowing that there's a God who is so incredibly great that He is capable of doing everything even when I can't do anything, makes me cry. Knowing that He is so good and loves every one of us so incredibly much and He chose to use me to show that love to others, makes me cry.  Knowing that even amidst the pain and the hurt and the brokenness, that there is joy and peace and hope and grace and mercy, gives me a reason to smile again.

So to the water delivery boy that knocked on the door in the middle of my breakdown, I'm sorry for scaring the crap out of you.  To my followers who were hoping for inspiration or something exciting to read, I apologize.  To the people who I live and work with, you've got one huge emotional wreck on your hands...hope you're okay with that ;-)

My Provider...

Two weeks ago today, I was introduced to the amazing girls of Safe Refuge.  When we arrived, the Thursday Bible Study was getting ready to begin so we sat down to join the girls.  I sat beside Camille, a teeny tiny 17-year old girl who can’t be much bigger than most 10 year olds that I know.  She scooted over to get as far away as she could as she and the other girls laughed and laughed.   After the laughter died down, they explained that she was afraid I would smell her since she hadn’t had a chance to shower yet.  Her smile and humor immediately captivated my heart.

Tuesday through Friday I spend some time with each of the girls, usually in pairs in hopes that between the 2 of them they can translate enough English for us to understand each other!  Tuesdays are my days with Camille and Glenda.  This Tuesday we decided to go to MarketPlace (MP) which is just a little “mall” right down the road from Safe.  As we walked Camille, held onto my arm to make sure I didn’t get lost or hit by a car and Glenda followed close behind us.  Since this was the first time for us to hang out we started with the basic questions as we sat in Jollibee (the Filipino McD’s): how old are you, where are you from, how many siblings do you have, do you have a boyfriend (that’s their favorite one), etc.

However, after I had answered the basic questions, Camille dove right into the serious stuff.  She began telling me how sad she was and how she misses her “family” so much and that she cries herself to sleep almost every night.  I tried to remember her story (since Naomi attempted to give me short biographies of the residents) but placing her face with her name and then with her story was just beyond me.  So I asked her to tell me her story.  As she began talking, I quickly placed the story that I had been told (how could I forget it?!?!) with her face but I still wanted to hear it from her perspective, so I listened attentively. 

Her “father” (who could have just been a pimp who took in the children of his prostitutes and raised them for the sole purpose of making money for them) had taken her out of school after 2^nd grade so that she could begin working. She sold things and begged for money to take care of the rest of her family.  When she was 10 yrs old, her father cut and dyed her hair, sent her out with experienced prostitutes to properly train her, and began selling her to prospective male “clients”.  If she ever got out of line, a beating was sure to follow and did on occasion.  Fortunately, yes I said FORTUNATELY, Camille became pregnant at 16 (which may be debatable as we aren’t 100% sure of her exact age) right before her father was about to sell and traffic her to Japan.  Since pregnant girls are no good for the sex-industry, her father sent her to Safe.  It was the best thing he ever did for her.  Camille and her now 1-year old son are at Safe and are continuing to grow and heal so much emotionally and spiritually.  Camille dances on the dance team at church and it is so amazing to know her story and where she has come from and where she is now.  God really is able to turn the worst of all situations into something great.

But anyways back to her current issue of missing her father, the man who attempted to take everything away from her including her education and chance for a future, physically and emotionally abused her, sold her body, and exposed her to God only knows what diseases and experiences. Do you want to kill this horrible, horrible man who called himself a “father”? Yeah, I do too! But not her, she MISSES him….why in the world would she miss someone who treated her so inhumanely and caused so much pain??? I dealt with this with the foster children my family used to keep as well but I can’t become desensitized to it and my reaction is always the same: shock, confusion, mixed with a little anger. 

After calming myself down, I realized that God made us to long for a father figure so that we would long for Him. But when the only father that you have ever known is taken away from you, then I’m sure it is hard to cope regardless of the horrible things he may have done.  So I tried to explain to Camille that the only way for her to ever be free and truly satisfied is to let God (her heavenly father) fill the void and be the father that her earthly father could not be for her.  I explained to her that people are human and unfortunately, the human part of us WILL inevitably fail everyone at some point, there’s no way around it.  The ONLY one who will not fail us and who remains forever constant and stable is God and He is the one we need to put our complete trust into.

Later I began to wonder, how many times in our lives do we look in the wrong places for fulfillment and happiness? I know I am guilty of it far too often.  I look to others and trust them to meet my needs (mostly emotionally but in my current issue, financially as well) instead of looking to God to be my sole provider.  I have a tendency to look around EVERYWHERE else hoping that things will just magically appear before I turn to God for help.  Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Maybe that’s why we have so many problems and issues. We’re constantly searching for a human (who as I’ve said, is GOING to fail us) to give us everything we need when God is just hoping that we will turn to Him so that He can give us everything we need and more.  And, ironically, the only one who will never let us down, is the one who is great (capable of everything) and good (He’s happiest when we’re happy).  

"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them 

is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 

Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."John 3:16

i double-dog dare you...

I remember having a conversation with someone from my church right around the time Crystal, my sister, decided to return to the Philippines this last time (June 2010).  They were so shocked to find out that she was going but more in shock that she had already been for a total of 2.5 years and even more in shock to find out that she is a Certified Professional Midwife.  Many times I have had conversations with her complaining and asking her why she didn't tell her stories more often.  I could sit for hours and listen to her telling her adventures over and over again (our family is known for repeating things) and they were better every time (we're also known for exaggerating).  I was sure that if I loved them as much as I did then everyone else would too.  But somehow she had managed to know these people for almost 2 years and had never once told them of the passions that defined her so intricately.  It was so frustrating to me.  I could not for the life of me understand why she wasn't shouting how amazing she is from the rooftops....until now...

I've had conversations with others since I've arrived in the Philippines about how I should go about telling the stories of the residents at Safe and of my adventures during this season of my life.  I've discovered how incredibly difficult doing that really is.  I've talked with some people here who express the same concerns and issues.  As I search my brain for the words to type out my feelings and emotions, I've learned that there simply aren't words in our human vocabulary to explain what is happening in my mind and more importantly, my heart.  While I could ramble all day long about the everyday happenings, that isn't sufficient and would honestly be pretty boring.  I've spent literally hours questioning and thinking and praying about how God wants me to convey these life-changing experiences to you.  But tonight, I think I may have had a break-through.  But I should warn you, the things that you are about to read may upset you and, honestly, I pray that they do.  I have tried to walk a fine line of expressing what's on my heart while not being offensive and attempting to find ways to sugar coat the truth. But I (we) don't have time to be fake, so here is me, as real and as raw as I come.

We don't share our stories and we try to hide in a room and never come out, not because we're afraid you won't understand, we can justify that in our minds (because they've never been there, they haven't seen or heard).  What we're really afraid of is that you WILL understand and still refuse to do anything to change it.  Refuse to show compassion, refuse to give support, refuse to accept the reality of an imperfect world, refuse to end your ignorant ways, or refuse to care enough to let it shake the foundations of your innermost being.  Because if we let you live in your own little "perfect" world pretending that nothing is wrong and refuse to inform you of the injustices and tragedies of the poor, then we can continue justifying your actions with your ignorance and misunderstandings.  However, once we let you into our "world" and reveal to you the pain that really exists and the brokenness that compels us to hastily share God's love and grace, then we have to deal with the reality that many of you won't respond with compassion and love.  We'll have to deal with the reality that many of you will continue to live your life just the same as you have every other day, content with settling for what you have decided is best instead of letting God reveal His best (and let's face it, His best is infinitely better than our best) and without letting God work mightily on your behalf.  Many of you are content with being average and are okay without being what God has called you to.  God has called us all to greatness and refusing to be transformed by God's amazing grace and unfailing love is just stupid.

So I've decided that not telling you because you won't respond is just taking the easy way out, for both of us.  And too many people have taken the easy way out for far too long.  So for your sake and in an attempt to save you from yourself, I'm making a commitment, here and now, to be real.  I'm going to tell you that I've been a crying wreck since I stepped off the plane in Manila.  I'm going to tell you that every day poses a new challenge, a new obstacle, a new something that I have to learn from and fight through.  I'm going to tell you that over the past 2 weeks I've learned more than ever that love IS a fight, pain IS real, God's grace IS more than enough, and there IS redemption and restoration in His love and joy in the hope only He can give.

I challenge you to read my blogs.  I challenge you to get upset.  I challenge you to share my stories.  I challenge you to ask questions.  I challenge you to exercise empathy.  I challenge you to be different.  I challenge you to be the greatest you that you can be, not because you want the attention or fame but because that's who He calls us to be.  He has set us apart and called us to greatness. It's time we stop focusing on ourselves and start wanting the things that God wants and asking for Him to break our hearts with the things that make His heart break. When we start wanting a closer relationship with Him, then our actions will begin to produce fruit and thats where greatness starts.  Let it change you or not, that's not my call or decision, God has called me to something greater than myself and if looking like an idiot is what it takes to share His love and grace, then so be it.

If you're not a missionary, then you're the mission field...

So in a previous blog, I mentioned that I would explain the rationale behind my dislike for the term "missionary" so here it goes...


(Disclaimer: read the entire blog before you go and get offended)


Missionary: a person sent by a church into an area to carry on evangelism or other activities, as educational or hospital work; a person strongly in favor of a program, set of principles, etc., who attempts to persuade or convert others; a person who is sent on a mission.


You may be thinking "Well how can someone dislike that definition of a word?" and you are correct. Apart from the "sent by a church" part (seeing as I was solely sent by God, but anyways...) and the "attempts to persuade or convert others" (nah, I'm not a fan of this wording, I just love them with God's love and pray that they respond that's all) I guess I agree with the rest of it.  So according to that definition aren't we all called by God to be "missionaries"? ("If you're not a missionary, then you're the mission field. There's no in between you're one or the other. Is it Jesus or yourself, to whom do you yield?") Guess I could start calling all of you back in the States missionaries too!  But even still that hasn't really led to my dislike of the term. So to get back on track...


The stigma and ideals behind the term "missionary" are what bother me the most.  Example: Let's say I meet someone new in the States and they ask me what my occupation is.  I respond "I'm a missionary." What do you think is the first thing that pops into their mind? 1. I've been restricted to wearing long dresses and ridiculous looking attire 2. I don't have a clue what the "real" world (outside of my perfect bubble) is really about 3. you have to guard everything you so because God forbid you say something offensive 4. I have arrived to some supernatural level with God that is so admirable and inspirational.  (and no, I'm not making those up. I've heard them all at some point in some way.)


1. Actually I wear whatever is cool and comfortable and to be in Manila, you have to be quite stylish so no super conservative attire here ;)
2. Haha! yeah right, I'm working with girls from the sex-industry try to get more "real" world than that!
3.  (refer to #2) I've probably heard more in the past week and a half than most of you will your entire life.  Nothing surprises me and we all suck at life at some point, so try me...
4. I know many of my friends have told me how amazing and inspirational I am and while I appreciate the sentiments and the comments (and words of affirmation are one of my love languages, so don't by any means, stop telling me! haha!) I do hope that behind the words you truly understand that I am no great person.  I am such an ordinary person that it is ridiculous and more days than not I feel so completely inadequate to do what God has called me to do.  The only thing that I can say about myself is that I love God and I love others.  The "sacrifice" that I have made pales in comparison to the sacrifice that God has made for us and it is nothing to be admired.  I have days that I doubt, days that I question, days that I want to give up, days that it's difficult to love...I'm normal, ordinary, average.  


So use the term "missionary" as you would like, it doesn't offend me, like I said we're all called to be missionaries. But I ask that when you use that term, please know that I am merely a sinner saved by grace and loved unconditionally by my Father who saw fit to send me on an adventure to break my heart and to teach me how to love and to be loved.