Archive for the ‘Amanda’ Category

Village Moms

They say it takes a village to raise a child. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot since our beloved Mrs. Mary Helen passed away this year. I believe with every fiber of my being that I have the world’s greatest mom. Melissa and I didn’t have any reason to go looking for extra women to mother us, but God surrounded our little family with a handful of Jesus-loving women who were like colorful sprinkles on the incredible homemade iced sugar cookies that our mom made.

I’m thinking of Johnnie Haines, who was my mom’s best friend and running buddy for as long as I can remember. We spent more time playing at her house than anywhere else, except for church. Maybe. She’s always  kept us laughing with her wit and sass and she’s taught me a thing or two about raising a son. God bless her for not knocking my head off when I reveled in tattling on her boys.

I’m thinking of Kathy Kolkhorst, whose daughter was my very first friend in kindergarten. She displays Jesus in her joy and she never stops serving others. She was always an outspoken lover of Christ and she helped influence me to follow Him. (She gave me my first Psalty tape!) God bless Mrs. Kolkhorst for all the carpooling and for leading our Brownie troop for years.

Then there’s our dear Mrs. Mary Helen. What a precious saint of God. That woman would bring sacks of groceries, boxes of baked treasures from Three Brothers Bakery, and huge Ziplock bags of homemade cookies to our house when Mom was out of town speaking. Normally she would only be gone one night, but Mrs. Mary Helen wanted to spoil us. And that she did. Her kindness and love were warm and comfy like a perfectly worn-in blanket. She was beautiful on the outside with her pretty white hair and her sweet smile and oh- so-stunning on the inside with her generous spirit.

Women like Aunt Johnnie, Mrs. Kolkhorst, and Mrs. Mary Helen made up our village. Melissa and I were shaped, in part, by the small and large deposits they made in our lives.

I think Village Moms have two important roles – to hold up the arms of other women as they do the work God has given them, and to collectively teach Village Children about the love of Jesus. (As Lindsee said so well, Village Moms don’t have to be called “Mom” to be a mother.)  I can hardly put into words how my Village Relationships have blessed me.  Experiencing life in community with church members in our neighborhood has been rich. This year I’ve learned how to support other moms and how to let myself be supported. It’s a beautiful thing!

I love that several times a week, my kids get to see how my girlfriends love and serve Jesus. Yesterday some of us Village Moms had a semi-spontaneous prayer session (not because we were that spiritual but because we were that needy for Jesus). Three little preschool girls ran circles around us while we prayed and one precious 9-month-old foster daughter sat, bounced, and rolled right in the middle of us. Some of our praying was done with eyes open and there were no few distractions, but my heart was so full.  I know one day Jackson and Annabeth will talk about how Mrs. Crista, Mrs. Lisa, Mrs. Debra and so many other godly friends lived out their faith in front of them.

It is good to be a mother. It is good to bless children, whether they’re yours or they’re in your village. It is good for children to be surrounded, protected, loved and taught by a community of God-fearing women.

There is a Village in India where young girls are being rescued from a future of certain enslavement and exploitation in brothels. As Our Own, a Christ-centered adoptive care ministry, is working tirelessly to provide rescue and lifelong after-care for these precious children. These girls don’t age out of a program and get launched out on their own – they are daughters for life. The girls are living, breathing evidence of God’s power to redeem. Their destiny is changed from one of destruction and misery to a life of love, security, education, and hope in Christ.

In honor of the Village Moms who loved me, carpooled me, coached me, cooked for me, prayed for me, bought Girl Scout cookies from me, gave thousands of hugs, listened to prayer requests on behalf of my pets, taught me in VBS, and celebrated birthdays with me, I am making a Mother’s Day donation to As Our Own. In honor of the Village Moms who are now walking beside me as I mother my children, I am giving sacrificially to see my beautiful little sisters in India thrive and flourish.

Siestas, will you be a Village Mom for our girls in India? They may never see our faces, but they will know our love and concern. It takes a significant amount of financial resources to provide the level of adoptive care that As Our Own gives. Will you make a donation in honor of your mom or of a Village Mom who made a difference in your life? Doing so will make a dramatic difference in the lives of these young girls who are so loved by God.

Happy Mother’s Day, Siestas. Thank you so much for your support.

All my love,

Amanda

 

 

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Howdy from Amanda

Hi Siestas! I sent Mom a text a few minutes ago asking if I could drop in and say hello today. I’ve missed y’all! How is everyone? I’m looking forward to seeing many of you in January at the SSMTC. I was just at LifeWay’s Dot Mom conference in Birmingham and enjoyed seeing a handful of our Siestas there. It’s funny how we feel like old pals by now! Speaking of that event, if you’re a mom you must find a way to get there next year. It was phenomenal. I recapped it here on my little family blog if you want to see what it was all about.

The problem with popping in every now and then is I don’t even know where to start! It seems like we have a brand new life these days. I’d say we are finally adjusted to having our firstborn in kindergarten. (I’ve stopped worrying that I’m going to forget.) He loves school but, I have to admit, his face lights up on Saturday mornings when I tell him he gets to stay home. Yesterday I got to help with the writers workshop in his classroom, which is officially my favorite use of my journalism degree. I cannot stop thinking about how precious his face was when he would look up from his desk and catch my eye. I wanted to give him lots of embarrassing hugs and smooches, but I controlled myself and waited until he got home. The highlight of the experience was at the end when the class thanked me by giving their “seal of approval,” which consisted of them barking like seals. It was pure kindergarten greatness.

Annabeth is the source of much laughter in our home. Y’all, she is funny. Curtis and I used to pray that our future children would not be boring and, Lord have mercy, He answered that prayer. I ordered Annabeth a butterfly costume from Zulily (moms, have you found that yet?) and when it arrived we all got a full display of girlish delight.  She was wearing her Christmas pajamas from last year  when I opened the package, so you can just imagine what she looked like with a tutu and butterfly wings on top. It also came with a wand, which she was desperate to sleep with. She was not about to let me pry that thing out of her sweet, sticky little hands. I forgot all about it until the next morning when I was greeted at my bedroom door by a cute little bed-headed urchin wielding a butterfly on a pink stick. Seeing her delight in all things girly is really a joy. We went on a long walk with Jennifer Hamm (Bible study coordinator at LPM) and baby Karis this morning and Annabeth wanted to bring five baby dolls with her. I talked her down to two.

There is so much more that I could say – especially about the journey we are on with our new church – but I will save that for another visit. Thank you all for interceding for us. We have needed and felt your prayers. I hope you ladies have a great Wednesday!
Much love,
Amanda

 

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Praying for Joplin

Siestas, this is Amanda checking in with a broken heart. You may know that I married into a wonderful, godly family from Southwest Missouri. I can’t count how many times I’ve sat shotgun next to Curtis as we’ve made our journey down the highway from Springfield to Houston. It has always been our tradition to stop in Joplin for something to eat on the way home. My heart aches every time I see another headline about the tornado that ripped through the city on Sunday – the latest calling this the deadliest single U.S. tornado since they began keeping records 60 years ago.

I can’t fathom the death, destruction and fear that has gripped that city. I pray God is showering down strength and the hope of the Gospel onto those people. There are some incredibly faithful, hard-working, Jesus-loving folks in the state of Missouri and I pray that God is equipping them to minister to these survivors with incredible compassion and effectiveness. I pray that the ones who have lost everything will find Jesus to be so very near. I pray they will see restoration. For the ones who have lost friends and family members, I pray for comfort and peace. If anyone reading this has been directly affected, I want to tell you that I’m so very sorry for what you are going through.

I am praying for God to be merciful as another round of storms is due to hit the region. Curt’s sister, Lindsay, is due to have our first little niece this week. Of course I’ve been obsessing over her like any good sister-in-law, and even more so now. We are going up there next week to meet the baby. All that to say, Missouri, you are on my heart every minute. And we are all praying for you.

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Now I Know

Before I became a mother, it was easy to pick out a Mother’s Day gift for my mom. I had the privilege of ignorance. But on February 17, 2006, that ignorance flew out the window of Baylor Grapevine Hospital when a baby boy was placed in my arms. Now I knew.

Having heard on my birthday every year about the 14 stitches my mother suffered during childbirth and how many months she felt that pain, I now felt it.

Having heard my mother say that having a child is like carrying your heart outside your body and letting it walk around, I now carried it. I now saw it take first steps.

I had never loved my mother more. Now I knew. The magnitude of what my mother had done for me all my life started to sink in.

So how exactly am I supposed to say thank you to my mother now that I know?

For countless meals fixed or fetched, for hairdos perfected before school and messed up before the bus got us all the way there, for refereeing more sibling battles than one can count, for pretending and being silly, for enduring back to school shopping with two daughters year in and year out, for carpooling, for taking us on vacations to places we wanted to go, for protecting us from harm, for comforting us when kids were mean, for correcting us when we were mean, for listening to kids’ music in the car, for teaching our VBS classes, for volunteering at the school, for confidentially counseling our friends, for cheering us on from the bleachers even when our team couldn’t win a game, for enduring our adolescent mood swings, for playing basketball in the driveway, for teaching us about Jesus Christ, and for doing all these things with love and a smile on her face. HOW? How do I thank my mother for raising me? And for doing it without letting on how hard it was?

Mom, truly, I thank you. Now that I know, I don’t know how you did it. But I’m grateful. And I hope I can raise your grandchildren in such a way that they remember me with a smile on my face. Even if I put all my money in my purse and spent a year doing nothing but shop for the perfect Mother’s Day gift to accurately reflect your worth to me as a mother, it would elude me. Nothing in a store could ever measure up to your value.

I may have a little gift in my hand for you on Mother’s Day, but I also want to give a gift that means something more. I want to show you your value to me by showing a little girl in India how much value she has to Christ. She is living in a very dark, unsafe brothel and her own mother is a slave to many men. Her mother is unable to care for her because she is not free to stop working. Her mother could sell her young daughter to the brothel and escape a living hell. But her mother wants freedom, protection and life for her child. Her mother is saying, “Help me by helping my daughter.”

 

With a financial gift made in your honor, God is providing a means of rescue for this little girl through As Our Own. The little girl’s mother will entrust her to their care. When she visits her daughter she will see her thriving and healthy and she will know that she has given her child a priceless gift. The child will be raised by loving women who will nurture her like their own daughter. She will go to school and be educated, which will change the path of her future. She will be introduced to Jesus Christ, who loves her and gave Himself for her. For the rest of her life, a family of believers will devote themselves to her well being.

Rescuing children from horrific exploitation and eventual death from AIDS does not come without a cost. For those of you reading this, the cost is financial. For a team of believers on the ground in India, the cost is spiritual and physical. Today I am looking for people who will partner with us by giving sacrificially to As Our Own. Let’s equip them to do the work God has called them to do. They are anointed for this work. They are even training pastors to take up this cause so that the church in India will become a mighty advocate for these children. The momentum is building and I ask you to please be a part of what God is doing.

Honestly, it is easier not to know about these things. I could have written details in this post that would have made you sick for the rest of the week. What happens in that red-light district haunts me daily. But I will not turn away because it’s easier. I will consider what is happening, how I can help, and I will take five minutes to go to their new Web site and actually do it. The beauty is that right now you and I can impact a child’s future and honor our moms (or a special mother figure in our lives) at the same time. Who is with me?

Donate in honor of Mother’s Day: AsOurOwn.org/ThanksMom

About As Our Own

The extreme poverty in India places girls at great risk for exploitation, enslavement, and neglect. Girls are regularly abused and degraded, forced into lives of bonded labor, either in organized begging or the sex trade.

These girls will face a dark, horrific future—unless someone intervenes.

God has opened the door for As Our Own to rescue girls before they are exploited, giving us the privilege to care for each one as our own—for life. We are building strong communities through our Lighthouse church network and training strong leaders and pastors at our Hope College, all to break these cycles for girls in future generations.

Your gifts make a lasting difference for these girls. Thank you!

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Easter Weekend 2011

Hi Siestas! This is Amanda checking in today. How was your Easter weekend? We had a great one. Mom asked me to share some (which turned out to be a lot) of our pictures. I apologize in advance for the wonky spacing. I tried three times to remove the extra lines and it kept reverting to this.

Our Easter celebrations started out with “Broken for You” at Houston’s First Baptist on Thursday night. Pastor John from First Baptist Irving (who used to be the youth pastor at HFBC) gave the message and it was like a big family reunion. We took the Lord’s Supper and had an awesome time of worship.

On Saturday evening we had a cookout and Easter egg hunt with my dad’s side of the family.

Here’s me, Memaw, Aunt Tina, Aunt Mary, Mom, and Cousin Hannah. Melissa, where were you?

 

Aunt Mary, Aunt Tina and Mom.


 

This was our fancy Easter table. We had hot dogs, cajun potato salad, fruit, chips and dip, and cake.

 

Melissa, Mom and Annabeth.

 

Jackson has been in this shirt in almost every picture I’ve taken this spring, but I can’t help it. He’s so handsome in it.

 

Aunt Mary and Mom.

 

Aunt Tina was so sweet and mindful of my little kids. She brought this swing to hang from the tree and tiny lawn chairs for them to use.

 

Hot dogs in the lap. Typical.

 

The guys had fun with some cascarones (confetti-filled eggs).

 

The brothers, Ben and Joe, look like they have rumbled a few times before.

 

My brother-in-law, Colin.

 

Ben cracked an egg on my dad and he got some projectile German chocolate cake in return.

 

 

This is Dad giving directions to the young men on how to sweep the field for snakes in preparation for the kids’ egg hunt. I’m sure my aunts were pleased.

 

It begins! And no snakes.

 

 

Annabeth found Lip Smackers from Aunt Melissa in her first egg and she pretty much forgot about everything else.

 

Texas girls need their lip gloss even when stomping through fields of grass and dried up leaves.

 

Annabeth having a fit in the dirt.

 

Post-fit rebound.

 

AB with Cousin Hannah.

 

Jackson got a lot more eggs than his sister.

 

She wasn’t bothered.

 

 

This is how we say cheese.

 

The progression of a toddler with lip gloss. One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

My dad squealing like a piggy.

The big kids got to do an egg hunt too. The stakes were a bit higher, although they didn’t know it.


Boys will be boys.

Running into the arms of…

 

Bibby!

 

The search is on!

 

My Easter chickies.

 

Pops on the Gator.

 

Colin, Dad and Melissa.

 

Some were not so enthused about the Mickey Mouse bags used in the egg hunt.

 

John and Hannah finding dollar bills in their eggs.

 

This is Cousin Joe stuffing his money in his pocket while being very quiet about being the Egg Hunt Winner.

 

Those dollars saw the light of day for .5 seconds before they were hidden deep in pockets.

 

We had decided to go to the evening Easter service at our church, so we spent a lazy morning at home. Curtis read the Scriptures to us and we turned on some great worship music.

We nixed the Easter bunny but I still made the kids Easter baskets. They had no expectations, which was nice. For the record, that plush Belle doll is hideous but I thought Annabeth would like it. She didn’t.

 

It just wouldn’t be natural if my kids weren’t in Christmas pajamas. They were waiting to get their baskets.

 

They were so tickled to get a surprise.

My mom used to give us these panoramic eggs when we were little. I saw some mini ones at HEB and had to grab a couple.



Annabeth thought it might be good to eat.

 

Later that morning Annabeth came down with a 102 degree fever. She didn’t have any other symptoms except for not wanting to eat and wanting to sit in our laps. I gave her Tylenol and every time it started to wear off, her fever shot back up. She was much better the next day.

I’m thankful that God seemed to have prepared me to miss church on Easter Sunday. Any other year I might have been devastated. I ended up taking Jackson to lunch at my parents’ house and then Curtis took him to church that evening. Annabeth and I sat on the couch together and watched some of the web cast. Also? Singing along with the web cast made me realize what a truly joyful noise I make. Bless my heart!

I hope you had a wonderful weekend worshipping the Risen Savior and loving on your families.


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Songs in the Car (by Amanda)

Every now and then I have an experience with my children that takes me back to the days when my mom had a fabulous wardrobe of leotards and large, geometric earrings and drove a sweet, earth toned stay wag that was named after a dinosaur.

Yesterday morning on the way to the kids’ school, we were listening to the Passion: Awakening CD. “How He Loves” was playing when we pulled into the parking lot and I brought the car to a stop right when the song was getting really good. Some of you musical people know the name for that part of the song and are saying it to me like I can hear it through the computer screen. Anyway, y’all know which part I’m talking about.

It seemed like such a shame to turn off the car before we got to sing “And we are His portion and He is our prize! Drawn to redemption by the grace is in His eyes. If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking. And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest. I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that He loves us…” Jackson threw off his seat belt and climbed in the front seat and we sang it together with all our guts.

I remembered being only yay big and in the back of that station wagon, sitting behind my mama’s big 80′s hair and belting out some Amy Grant and Larnell Harris. Nothing in life was so urgent that we couldn’t finish “Angels Watching Over Me” before we got out of the car.

*****

This old church directory photo from FBC Victoria, Texas, came into my life this week. There is no end to how much joy it’s given me. When I look at it I feel loved.


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A Whole New World

Written on Saturday, September 11, 2010


Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. Spending the day with my new Compassion child, Stefanie, was amazing. I did see some hard things during the day, but I gave myself permission to feel the joy fully because I knew what was coming next on the agenda.


This morning I woke up with a bit of a weak stomach. I knew we were visiting the city dump and the people who lived and worked there. I wanted to see it – well, sort of – but I was very nervous. I had a mental image of myself wandering through the homes in sackcloth and ashes and wailing at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t sure what that was going to do for anyone. I was also a little concerned about losing my breakfast in front of the team. That was a real possibility. My mom and sister have both been down that road before and I didn’t want to complete the humiliation triangle.


Our team got on the bus and immediately started chatting away. Somehow we got on the subject of weird foods and I was repulsed to the point of nausea by something about sheep brains on toast. I could have gone my whole life without hearing that, I thought. Moments later I was asking Shaun Groves to sing along to A Whole New World, which was playing on the radio. (Remember Aladdin and Princess Jasmine?) Shaun still hasn’t blessed us with his vocal talents and we’ve been giving him a hard time.


It wasn’t long before we arrived at the settlement on the dump. Why would anyone want to live on a garbage pile? That was the question on my mind and you’re probably wondering, too. The people who live there don’t pay any kind of rent or taxes on the land. They only pay for power and water. It is very cheap, but they pay a high price in countless ways. The families who live there arrived in desperate situations. Eight years later, they are still living in dwellings made of tin, cardboard, and blankets.


We had a very tough visit with one family and then began walking to another home. On the way, I saw a light-headed girl Annabeth’s age in the alley that we were walking through. She was very dirty and was playing with a filthy plastic doll. She never turned her face to me, so of course I pictured my daughter’s. I could have gone my whole life without seeing that, I thought. Ironically, within those few minutes we heard A Whole New World playing on a radio again.



We went deeper into the dump to see where people sort through garbage to find things that can be sold. The trash went on for two kilometers. I looked up and saw one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever seen. Circling above us in the sky was a whirlwind of vultures. Hundreds of vultures. I could have gone my whole life without seeing that, I thought.

We ended up driving to a cemetery where we could look out over the dump and get a better view of the settlements where 20,000 families dwell. The cemetery itself was fascinating. All of the graves were above ground, so it was just tomb after tomb after tomb. I’d never seen anything like it in person. It was ironic that the dead were housed better than the living people we’d just met.




A short walk took us to a cliff that overlooked a sea of filth. Below us, trucks were driving in and out and men were unloading trash at a frenzied pace.



The tombs were all around us and vultures were resting in groups on top of them. Hundreds more were circling above our heads. I was so thoroughly freaked out that I hid under the overhang of a sarcophagus. I could have gone my whole life without seeing this, I thought. I feel like I’m in hell. Thankfully, because of Jesus, that was the closest I will ever get to it.




I was desperate to get back in the van. I couldn’t take any more. The smell, the horror flick reality, the freaky birds, the desperation, the children living in the dredges of a sinful world. Stick a fork in me, I was done. When we finally returned to the van, I pressed my forehead on the back of Ann Voskamp’s seat and cried.


What if I had gone my whole life without seeing that? What if I anesthetized myself so much with wealth that I was convinced this wasn’t so? It needs to be known.


My original title for this post was “To Hell and Back,” but I didn’t think anyone would stick around to read it. If you’re still here, please stay with me because I want to take you to the “and Back” part.



It was time to visit the Compassion Child Development Center that serves the children who live on the dump. We were put to joyous work right away, serving lunch to the children and workers. The children eagerly approached the serving area where Lindsey and Lisa-Jo filled their bowls with rice and soup and Ann ladled lemonade into their cups. I was in charge of handing out tortillas. Dos o tres tortillas? I asked. The tortillas were very warm and so was the atmosphere. My sadness and hopelessness began to fade as the joy of doing something to help took its place.






Our leader, Patricia, brought bags of shoes to be given to the children in this community. I had brought a few of Annabeth’s shoes from home and stuffed them in the bag with the others.




At one point I heard someone calling my name and motioning for me to come. It was a mother holding her baby girl who was wearing Annabeth’s black mary janes. Oh, thrill of my heart! She was absolutely precious and medicine to a homesick mama’s heart.


We were invited to visit each of the classrooms and interact with the students. There were boys and girls ages 3 to 16 spread throughout the building. As we walked through the halls, it was like a breath of fresh air. The church was clean and spacious. The children had room to play in safety, under the watchful eye of loving adults.






We entered the room with the teenagers. Most of them were boys. I was thankful to see that because boys in these neighborhoods are very likely to join gangs. The child development program is a HUGE deterrent for them. We had met a handful of strong, godly fathers during this trip and seen a big difference in the disposition of their children. I have hope that these boys will grow up to lead their families in strength and godliness.



Before we left, we had the pleasure of hearing the pastor’s testimony. He said he had lost seven years of his life to drugs. When he was 21 years old, he came to faith in Christ. He sought out a church and during the altar call, he laid on the floor and surrendered his life to God. When stood to his feet, the need and desire for drugs had been completely taken away. Now he only needed and desired God. He has been a pastor for ten years. His wife is a doctor. Can you imagine what a great team they are? The pastor has a heart for the people of this community because he knows what it’s like to live in desperation. He knows what it’s like to live in redemption.



God is at work in the desperate situations. Honestly, when we were in the dump today I couldn’t see Him. I was blinded by buzzards as Satan hissed in my ears that God is not powerful enough to deliver these people. That He must not really love them. But when we walked in the doors of the church the lies were dispelled. We saw the salvation of our God.


Did you know that on average, 500 Compassion children around the world give their lives to Christ every single day? Isn’t that mind-boggling? You can be a part of giving spiritual, physical, and emotional hope to a child living in a desperate situation. Please consider supporting a child through Compassion International. If you’d like to change the life of a child from Guatemala, click here.


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Joy

Joy is stuffing toys, clothes and school supplies in a backpack for a four-year-old girl. Joy is filling a gift bag with household items, toiletries, a Spanish Bible, an Esther book, and a Texas A&M ball cap for her parents. Joy is going to visit my new Compassion sponsor child today.

Joy is being so nervous to meet little Stefanie, but being greeted with big hugs and smiles at the door.

Joy is finding a baby doll at Target that speaks Spanish.

Joy is seeing a little girl so eager to share her new things with her baby sister. Joy is being told that Stefanie is a girly girl who dreams of growing up and wearing beautiful dresses. Joy is telling her that I love beautiful dresses too, and one day we can twirl in them together for Jesus.

Joy is Stefanie’s mother asking me to pray for her as she prepares to enter school next year. Joy is telling her that I’ve been praying the same thing for my son.

Joy is a having abuelitas who care so much.

Joy is meeting Stefanie’s big brother who is dressed up like a cowboy. Joy is telling him that I live in a place known for cowboys and teaching him to say “Howdy, partner!” Joy is showing the kids a picture of an armadillo.

Joy is Stefanie’s mother telling me that in our family photo, my son looks just like my husband. Joy is spending the whole day with a little girl who will grow dearer and dearer to me through the years. Joy is seeing that she’s a daddy’s girl.

Joy is now having family in Guatemala.

Joy is eating Dum-Dums together in the bus. Joy is being given a Guatemalan headband and wearing it right away. Joy is Stefanie’s father saying that we are two peas in a pod. Joy is him saying that I look happy.

Joy is Spanish coming back to me after a long time. Joy is feeling like I would take 7 more years of Spanish classes just to get another day like this.

Joy is visiting the student center where Stefanie and her brothers are nurtured by godly men and women.

Joy is drawing pictures of rainbows.

Joy is playing with balloons. Joy is missing my Jackson but having tons of little boys to play with.

Joy is meeting several college students in the Leadership Development Program who have had the same sponsors since the age of six.

Joy fills my prayers for God to give Stefanie the grace to do well in school and enter the LDP program one day. The ultimate joy would be to continue sponsoring her and attend her college graduation.

Joy is the promise of writing letters. Joy is having to say goodbye to Stefanie, but knowing she will continue to be taken care of in Jesus’ name.

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A Tale of Two Hurricanes

The city of Houston will mark the two year anniversary of Hurricane Ike this weekend. Our family chose not to ride out the storm in our suburban Houston home. I tend to be very dramatic (like physically ill and crying) during severe weather events and I wanted to get as far away as possible. I was also pregnant. Pregnancy is a wild card that you can throw out for anything, and I’m obviously doing that now.

We evacuated to my parents’ ranch two days before the storm hit. I packed our wedding album and the computer with all our pictures on it just in case our home was destroyed by the storm. That wasn’t a likely scenario, but hurricanes spawn tornadoes and you just never know. Our neighborhood has large trees and they were a real concern. Thankfully, after the storm cleared we returned to a home with absolutely no damage. Our power was restored before we even made it back home.

Friends have told us that Hurricane Ike was the scariest night of their lives and that they wished they had left. They described it as being terribly loud. They could hear things hitting their homes, but they couldn’t just look outside and see what it was. It was completely dark. Some people in the Houston city limits did lose their homes. Many people were left without power for two weeks. Gas stations ran out of fuel and grocery stores were very low on food. People were acting panicky and it was very scary to see. The damage and loss of life on the coast was shocking. Hurricane Ike is something Houstonians will talk about for years to come.

One of the few concerns I had about coming on this trip was the fact that Guatemala is so vulnerable to hurricanes at this time of year. I wondered where we would take shelter if one came and we couldn’t get home in time. It actually rained so much last week that the country had devastating mudslides. Nearly 40 people died under the mud and rubble.

Last May, Guatemala took a direct hit from Hurricane Agatha. Today we visited some families who were traumatized by the storm. They live in a neighborhood built on a hillside. They cannot afford to live anywhere else.

The first woman we met lost her home. She was very lucky to have escaped in time. Because her three little boys are enrolled in Compassion’s sponsorship program, she had a place to seek help when it was time to rebuild. Through their Partners of Compassion fund, she was provided with building materials that her father used to construct a new home for her family. Her children have suffered with post traumatic stress and now they receive counseling at the child development center once a week.

Another precious mother welcomed our whole group into her tiny home. She showed us how the back porch had collapsed down the hillside as water poured through her house.

By the grace of God, the rest of it remained standing. She wept as she told us about the night she and her family escaped. Now she can’t sleep when it rains because she is so afraid. She is oppressed by the fear that she will hear the screams of those whose homes are slipping down the hillside.

From the story she told through sobs, this is what I gathered that night to have been like. Picture it with me. It has been raining and raining and it only seems to be getting worse. You finally get word that a hurricane is coming and you need to get out of your very vulnerable neighborhood. You discover that the one and only path up the hill has already been washed out from the water careening down the hillside. It won’t be long before the water begins dragging homes down with it. Your only way to escape is to climb the steep, muddy hill in pounding rain. Imagine that the only things you have to hold onto as you climb uphill through a hurricane are unstable trees. Now consider that your three small children are with you.

I could only think of how my friends told me that riding out Hurricane Ike in their very well crafted and sturdy American homes was the scariest night of their lives. I could only consider that I hadn’t even been brave enough to try. And here I was in the most vulnerable neighborhood I’d ever seen. It was God’s grace that any of these families made it out alive.

I was listening hard to try to understand this mother’s story without the translator’s help. One thing I know for sure was that she constantly said “I’m so thankful.” She was thankful to be alive. She was thankful for the support of her children’s Compassion project. She was thankful for our prayers for her family’s continued safety. When we took a moment to pray for her, she simultaneously prayed for us, saying “Gracias, Senor.” She literally could not wait to express her thanks to God.

I’ve come to the point where I need to tie a nice bow on this story. I don’t have it. It must have been swept away in the hurricane. What I do have is this. Compassion International is helping some of the most vulnerable children and families on earth. Their intervention is not just an idea – it is concrete. I saw it today with my own eyes. If you have a heart to help these vulnerable children, I would like to invite you to join me in sponsoring a child in Guatemala for $38 a month. I promise you that his or her life will be changed. And so will yours.

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You’ll Never Guess Where I Am

Curtis and I live about 30 minutes from our church, so we have a lot of time to discuss our Sunday school lesson and sermon notes as we drive home. There is a certain point on the Katy Freeway feeder road that always reminds me to encourage my husband about the lesson he taught. Last Sunday we were rapidly approaching it and I had nothing. Stink! It wasn’t because his lesson wasn’t great. I honestly did not hear a word he said. Neither did I have any idea what our pastor’s sermon was about.

I flashed back to February 1, 2009, which was the Sunday before Annabeth was born. I remember wondering why I bothered coming to church because all I could think, talk, or pray about was giving birth. Last Sunday I was completely consumed with thinking about an upcoming trip to Guatemala and I was literally good for nothing else. I realized it had been almost exactly nine months since I had been invited to join a group of bloggers on a trip to see Compassion International at work in Guatemala. And it was finally my due date! I was not getting a baby out of this experience, but I hoped I would be born new.

Curtis and I picked up our first Compassion sponsorship packet after a By the Tree concert when we were newlyweds. We have been blessed to partner with them in serving Marlon Alexander in Honduras for about seven years. Through his letters, we have been able to see him develop into a thoughtful and faith-filled young man. We were already fans of Compassion before I was approached about this trip, but I knew from my sister’s experience with them in India that I would be blown away by how truly excellent it is.

In a nutshell, Compassion International is a child development organization that serves over one million children worldwide. Six hundred thousand sponsors are currently partnering with this organization to rescue children from poverty in Jesus’ name. Compassion’s aim is to be an advocate for children, to release them from their spiritual, economic, social and physical poverty, and enable them to become responsible and fulfilled Christian adults. This is largely achieved through monthly financial support from one sponsor to one child.

Our team arrived in Guatemala City last night. I’d never met any of the other travelers in person, but after only 36 hours, I already think the world of them. The bloggers are Lindsey Nobles, Ann Voskamp, Lisa-Jo from The Gypsy Mama, and myself. The Compassion staffers are Shaun Groves, Dustin Hardage, amazing photographer Keely Scott, and my lovely roommate, Mrs. Patricia Jones! My sister called me right before I got to the airport to tell me how much she had loved Patricia on her Compassion trip to India in April of 2009. She is a wonderful lady with an amazing family. I’m hoping some of her mothering skills will absorb into my being while I sleep six feet away from her.

Our day started off with a trip to Compassion’s office here in Guatemala City. We got to see the various departments and meet the ladies and gentlemen who run the hub of Compassion’s activity in this country. There are 142 child development centers here that serve a total of 35,000 children. One of the most striking things about the office was that many of the desks were empty. The workers were busy out in the field! They did not have time to sit at those desks. I loved that.

If you already sponsor a Compassion child, you can probably appreciate that my favorite part was meeting the correspondence staff. They were working hard at translating stacks and stacks of letters.

I took some of Mom’s Esther books in Spanish to give to the Compassion ladies.

Later, we arrived at the Dios Habla Hoy (God Speaks Today) Student Center. All of Compassion’s student centers are hosted in churches. Curtis and I are passionate about the local church and this aspect really appeals to me. More on that to come.

As we started filing into the church, the deafening cheers of one hundred and fifty kids filled the air. There was a sea of beautiful smiling faces, wide eyes and waving hands. It was very humbling to be shown such love. The children performed songs and recited memory verses they had learned. One by one, all the adult church members who volunteered in the program were introduced on stage. There were twenty of them.

The presentation ended with a rousing rendition of a song you and I know as Lord You Are Good by Israel Houghton. Oh my word, I was doing everything humanly possible notto fall in a heap on the floor in full-on ugly cry. The kids were dancing their hearts out and singing these words in Spanish: Lord you are good and your mercy endureth forever…People from every nation and tongue, from generation to generation…We worship you for who you are…And you are good! Mom, I know you are reading this and I need you to know this was possibly the highlight of my life. Aside from my wedding and the births of my children. But it was high up there.

We enjoyed getting to serve Pollo Campero to the children for lunch. It’s like the Chick-fil-a of Latin America. I finally got brave enough to try out my rusty Spanish on some of the kids while they were eating their chicken sandwiches. They just grin at you whether you say something right or not. After lunch the children went to their classrooms and we went around visiting each one. The kids seemed very happy to be there.

Soon the children went home and we gathered with the project coordinator, the pastor of the church, and all the volunteer workers. The pastor spoke of how much the children meant to the church. The program is relatively new at only 16 months old. The church has eleven new families that became members after their children entered the program. A man who I believe worked as a tutor stood up and spoke with tears in his eyes. His older children serve there with him. A precious woman who is in charge of serving the food also spoke through tears about how much the children meant to her. She, too, serves there with her older children.

I think the most profound thing I saw today was the beautiful relationship between Compassion and the local church. I expected to see the benefits the child development program on the children. I did not, however, expect to see the children having such an amazing effect on the church members. The children are served there twice a week and the volunteers admitted it was hard work. But the joy, fulfillment and energy that their presence brings to the church was palpable. It was clear that the children were highly valued. I was so moved that families were serving God there together.

We have three more days to experience the Lord’s work through Compassion here in Guatemala City. Please pray for our team to be a blessing to the children, to the workers, and to the families. Pray that we will allow God to have His way with our hearts. Pray that hope and new life will be born in the poor and the rich. Gracias, hermanas!

Con amor,
Amanda

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