Photo of the Week...7/17-7/24

we'll just call this week's photo of the week, broken heart: week #2.

although i cannot share all the details of this story, just trust that it's a good thing you don't know them.  and although it would be easy for me to make this entire post about how unfair life is and how awful people are, God showed me very clearly that regardless of what humans do, He is still in control.  He will take what people intend for evil and make it good.

***

as he strolled into the clean, church building you could almost cut the tension with a knife.  people's eyes were already welling up with tears, although we were trying hard to not let him see.  he calmly joined the silent group with a tentative smile on his face.  i tried to smile, wondering how on earth he could even muster one up.

this week was for him.  and although others were there, he was the inspiration.  a deaf teenager, living in a trash dump, never learning an actual language to communicate with others.  on this island, children with deformities or disabilities are often cast aside like the daily trash.  they are not cared for.  they are seen as a hindrance.  most of the time they are taken to a government orphanage so someone else can deal with them, that's if they aren't aborted first.  but Yordy's mom loves him.  maybe not the way some judgmental hearts might want her too, but she loves him the best she can.

as spanish signing cards were waving around and new conversations formed with hands and expressions, his eyes lit up with hope.  he wasn't the only one anymore.  there were people here that wanted to give him language.  that wanted him to know that he is anything but a castaway.  that he has value and that he belongs to a kingdom that reigns above the dirty river his home sits next to.

i watched him closely, looking for the remnants of his recent horrific situation.  instead of angry or hurt eyes, he smiled so often that i was blown away by this young man still so filled with joy.  but there were moments.  when no one was looking, and just i was watching, the smile would slip away.  his eyes would look downward and his mind would wander.  remembering.  but almost as quickly as his smile left it was almost as if his heart reminded him that today was a new day, and his smile reappeared bigger and brighter than before.

i can't really explain all that those few hours taught me in a room full of people, signing a language i barely knew.  but God showed me through a deaf teenager whose future, according to this world, holds nothing but disappointment and ridicule, that joy can be found in every moment.  even amidst our worst nightmares, God has a redemption plan bigger than we could ever imagine.  and His grace extends beyond language, culture or circumstance.

Photo of the Week...7/10-7/17

i could feel it in the pit of my stomach.  the sinking feeling that God was doing something that was going to hurt.  he was going to break my heart all over again.

as our van trampled through the pitted dirt roads i could see the mound of trash burning off in the distance.  a mix of machinery and working men looked like figures in a cartoon because surely real humans wouldn't be in that sort of situation.

i closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for what i knew was coming.  it was five years earlier that i had come here and had my heart broken for the first time.  i was hoping a repeat story wouldn't unfold.  i was quite naive.

there is something about La Mosca that brings out the worst type of christian in me.  i feel angry and bitter upon entering its fly-infested streets.  it makes me want to slap neglectful parents in the face as i stare at their lonely, unloved children.  it makes me want to curse at the owners of the garbage dump who exploit these people and trap them in a pit of poverty.  it makes me want to have a conversation, not a pretty one, with the evil one who owns these streets and holds its inhabitants captive.

its dark and it feels hopeless.

i could feel my subconscious working over time to harden my heart, to make it numb.  it knows full well that if i let myself feel this place, sink into its grief, i might not be able to pull myself out.

the medical clinic was going great.  nothing too serious to report.  a few scratches and skin infections but mostly female issues dominated the morning.  i felt like i was going to make it.  i had successfully visited La Mosca without mourning over them and curling into a fetal position in the corner of the church.  but i made a simple mistake.  i looked out the window.  i saw plates of food being passed.  i thought i would go take some pictures.

i rounded the corner to fifty kids sitting on the cement floor with plates of food in their laps.  not unusual.  i've seen nutrition centers before.  heck, half of my summer is spent in them.  but i caught her eye.  a little girl who looked like the Dominican version of my little girl.  let the breaking begin.

i scanned her with my eyes from head to toe.  hair disheveled.  scrapes on her face and back.  scabies scars from her neck to her feet.  a pair of shorts, tattered and clearly too big for her.  no shoes.  and suddenly my own blonde-headed beauty flashed before me.  this time with matted hair and calloused feet.

she didn't smile, she didn't react, she didn't play.  she just stared.  her deep brown eyes staring at the big black thing i was holding to my face.  little did she know that it was my protection.  i've shed many tears behind my lens, unknowingly to the world.  and this day was no exception.  they flowed without end, or sound, as i imagined my baby girl sitting on a cement floor, eating rice and beans, wearing her brother's shorts and with itching wounds all over her body.  bugs, literally laying eggs in her flesh and clawing their way out after they've hatched.  this little girl's reality became my reality.  she became my daughter.

pain and suffering used to be something i ran from.  trying so desperately to make "light" of something that so evidently couldn't become just a phrase for an optimistic person.  more and more God is teaching me to meet people in their grief.  hurt with them.  suffer with them.  dive into their pain as deep as they are in it.  its in that place, and only in that place, that we can truly understand what Jesus did for us.  what He asks us to continually do...share in His suffering and the suffering of His beloved.

i don't know if she understands the life that surrounds her at the ripe age of two.  nor do i know the plans He has for her.  but i know something...God keeps allowing me to ache for these little ones and the injustice of their situation.  every bit of suffering i feel for them does more and more to drive me to seek justice for those who can't seek justice for themselves.

and after all, even in what seems like the most hopeless of situations, i still got her to smile.  just maybe hope is on the horizon.

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."  -2 Corinthians 1:5

Photo of the Week - 6/26-7/3

 

you might find it strange that my photo of the week is a photo of one of our staff.  you might find it stranger that it isn't of an adorable kid in one of our ministry communities.  but this moment, this picture impacted me so greatly this week that i couldn't help but make this photo, my photo of the week.

***

you could hear a pin drop.  and in a country as loud as ours, that's saying something.  you know when you can tell something big is coming, whether you know what it is or not, something in you just knows?  all your senses hone in on what is taking place before you.  you are acutely aware of how people are positioned, where they are looking, who is drawing the attention.  you wait in anticipation for "the event" to occur, not yet knowing what exactly it is going to be.   i was waiting, expectedly.

the young men that surrounded me, somewhere around two hundred of them, were fidgety.  some of them knew it was coming too.  others didn't want the words to be spoken.  still others were waiting for the charge.  to be part of something bigger than any of them even knew possible.  because in reality, nobody ever really expected anything of them anyway.

i could hear it in Will's voice.  he wasn't going to shy away from this conversation.  he knew this was the moment.  he knew a week like this was his platform.  God's platform.  Will knew that if he wasn't bold, if he wasn't real, if he didn't hit them where it hurt, then all of this they'd been doing would have been wasted on deaf ears.

he started to talk about fathers.  risky subject.  maybe you or i have a pretty good picture of a dad because we grew up with amazing ones.  but these boys don't have that good fortune.  a majority of the fathers here are the furthest thing from what a father is supposed to be.  and when i say majority, i'm not exaggerating a statistic so you'll be blown away; the cold, hard truth is good examples are few and far between.  they abuse their children, beat their wives, drink incessantly.   and that's if they are around.  most "fathers" are but a vapor in the wind.  you only speak of them when signing official papers or are enlisting in school and the school officials need to know your father's name.  do you know a couple dads like that?  i know twenty; and they all live on the same street.

so when Will brought up their fathers, for most of them it was like opening a wound they would rather just put a bandaid on.  but Will wasn't having it.  he knows that if something doesn't change, 99% of the kids sitting in that room would grow up to be just like their fathers.  abusive.  deadbeats.  criminals.

Will asked them to raise their hands if their fathers drank a lot.  more than half the hands in that place shot to the roof.  the others raised their hands, not physically, but with a disgraceful expression.  "how many of your fathers hit your mom?"  less hands went up this time but their expressions went from disgrace and shame to hurt and angry.  "how many of your fathers hit you?"  only the hands of the younger boys stayed up.  the older ones know you don't let others see that kind of truth.  "do you want to be like your dads?  do you want to follow in his footsteps?  do you want to abuse your kids and beat your wives and get drunk every night?"  i could hear the quiet sound of influence passing over the crowd.  the sound of sniffing and tear-wiping began too.

something incredible happens when a person is empowered.  when they realize they have expectation.  it ignites something in them.  they suddenly feel like who they are now doesn't have to be who they will always be.  change is a powerful thing.

there was this moment when i could barely see through my own tears and i watched as Will's eyes welled up too.   i realized THIS is God's redemption plan for this island.  maybe the young men who are here, listening, will change the course of an entire community.  maybe looking back ten years from now we could track a new generation of husbands and fathers to this very room.  maybe, all it took was one guy from louisville, kentucky to charge these boys to be Men of God.  and almost as if it were rehearsed, when Will asked this room full of broken boys if they wanted to be Men of God they chanted back at him, "Hombres de Dios," with fists raised in the air.  not because they were expected to or they would win a prize if they did it really loud but because the flame was lit and the torch was passed and for a room full of boys, the buck was stopping here.

Photo of the Week 6/5-6/12

it's been harder on me since we have returned from the States.  it's almost like i forgot for a short time just what life is like for the majority of the people living here.  everywhere i look i see hungry kids, hurting families and satan's strongholds.  like my eyes have been opened...again.

even though i know God doesn't want me to stay in this place, it's still a good place to be.  to be reminded that we are on a battlefield.  we are waging war against the most deceptive army known to man.  we are fighting for little souls that don't even know yet why we are fighting.

little souls like hers.

as i watched her in her teenage mom's arms i tried hard not to feel hopeless for her.  wondering what on earth i could possibly do to change her circumstances, to keep her from following the broken path ninety-nine percent of her friends will.  God reminded me that i am armed with the strongest weapon available to anyone.  a weapon that our enemies will never possess.  a weapon that heals the wounded, saves the lost and brings justice to God's people.

i can pray for her.  i can battle satan in a spiritual realm that so many people forget they are able to tap into.  will you join me?  will you pray for this little one to stand apart from the crowd?  will you pray that she will have supernatural abilities to fend of temptation and live a life radically for Christ?

God is calling us to to stand in the gap for His people, especially the ones who are unable to defend themselves.  could you imagine this little one fighting satan on her own?  she needs me.  she needs us.  she needs the body of Christ.

Photo of the Week - 5.29-6.5

hello there, you little dominican beauty...

i know God has a plan for you.  plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  to give you hope and a future.  my prayer for you is that you find your identity in Christ; not in boys, clothes, or the things of this world.

remember this time, your youth, and the things that make you smile.  remember the freedom and the little things that make this time in your life so carefree.

keep putting flowers in your hair, just for the fun of it.  keep dancing with your friends in the street, just because you can.  keep walking through that church door, reminding yourself of a big God who cares so deeply for you.

i don't know your circumstances but i know that you are a child of Him who wants to do immeasurably more than you could dream or imagine.  let Him.  let Him use you for His kingdom.  let Him mold you and shape you.  let Him take control and show you His way...because, after all, it is the best way you can take.

you are the future generation of a culture that is going to radically change this island.  you are God's solution.  He has chosen you to be a part of a revolution.

you are a warrior even at your young age.

[Partin Family] & Ruby Ann's 6th month

There are days when the incredible job I get to do overwhelms me with joy. Today was one of those days.

Two of mike and I's closest friends recently returned home to the Dominican after a long stent in the States. Their family of two became a family of three. I was jealous and envious of so many people that got to hold their little one before I did. I was sad that I didn't get to take newborn pictures of her like all our other staff babies. But my wait was nothing compared to Will and Audrey's.

So as I was taking pictures of this little family of three today I couldn't help but stare at each frame. In fact, on the way home in the car as I was flipping through them all I couldn't keep myself from tearing up. I was in awe of God's grace. I was reminded of the story that he writes for each of us. The story He wrote for Will and Audrey. The hardships and the struggles are such a small part in comparison to the glory He unfolds every day. Little Miss Ruby Ann's smile is a perfect example of God's glory and grace and His unfathomable love for us.

You can read Will and Audrey's adoption journey, here.

my favorite of the day :)

Photo of the Week-2/12-2/19

meet linda (pronounced leen-dah; means cute, adorable, beautiful). hey there, pretty girl. she lives in the hole and she's been my photo of the week before. except before, i didn't know her. before, she cried at the sight of me. before, i hadn't stepped into her world.

it's been a strange transition working so closely to the ministry happening in the hole. i figured i would become more emotionally numb to it since i see it at such close proximity. but, quite frankly, the opposite has happened.

i remember when i was explaining life in the hole to a short-term missions team for the first time after i began working there. i said my usual stuff, expressed the need there, shared how tough life can be. and i cried. like, to the point that i just wanted to jump out of the van, find a corner and curl up in it. it no longer was just a story i told. it was her story. linda's story. i know kids now whose parents leave in the morning to go to work, lock their kids out of the house and make them fend for themselves until they get home. i know girls who are basically child prostitutes with no self-esteem or feeling of worth. i know parents who hardly have enough food to feed themselves, let alone their eight children. and it breaks my heart even more knowing their real life stories.

but for me, what keeps me coming back, what keeps me taking the long staircase down into this dump are the smiles i get when i turn the alley to the church. linda, who was so petrified of me two years ago, is now one of my most enthusiastic welcomers. she will stop whatever she is doing, run barefoot and jump over trash and dirty water just to rest comfortably in my arms. talk about redeeming people. god's already working on her little heart, changing it from fear and uncertainty to trust and love.

Welcome to the World!

Little Isileidy came into this world on Saturday, January 14th, weighing in at 7 lbs 8 ounces. Although she was healthy, her Mama wasn't. I hadn't realized how serious it was until after the fact, but apparently we almost lost Yuleidy. Due to severe anemia and not being able to stop her bleeding, lots of fluid and four pints of blood later they were able to bring her around.

When I went to the hospital to see her, they wouldn't let us in. She wasn't out of the woods yet and she was in intensive care. Intensive care, not in the sense that you and I think of. It didn't look sterile at all and there wasn't very much care involved. I kept praying, "Lord, just let me see her even if for a minute." And just after I finished praying, a nurse saw me standing at the door and waved to me to enter. She said all I could do was peek my head in and I told her that's all I needed.

When I rounded the corner to her room, i had to fight back tears as not to scare her. It looked like she was in a storage room that they just threw a hospital bed into. There were literally randomly placed filing cabinets surrounding her bed with just a small passage-way to reach her. This small child, laying all alone in a storage room with blood and fluids filling her veins. She looked like she was on death's door but as she turned to see me, a little smile. I smiled back and started to step in the room. The nurse stopped me and said, "You told me you just wanted to look." "But can't I just go hug her really quickly?" I asked. "No." The head doctor noticed me standing there and began shouting. By this time three of her friends had huddled behind me without my knowledge and the doctor pointed her crazy finger at them. I quickly told her that I loved her and that I was praying for her, and that was it.

She apparently improved through the night and I called her sister-in-law, Carolina, to see what the news was. She was back home in The Hole. I hopped in the jeep and drove there, to enter into a house completely filled with people. If it were me, I would have been completely overwhelmed.

Yuleidy looked exhausted but a hundred times better than the day before. Isileidy was already a pro at breastfeeding and it was so rewarding to see her Mama relishing in her new role.

Keep praying for this one. When the newness wears off and she's overwhelmed with exhaustion and the baby wakes up for the fourth time to feed; pray for perseverance and joy. Pray for her relationship with her "husband" who is only 21 himself. Pray for God to reign over them and raise up a new generation of parents. Pray that God touch their hearts in a big way, through this little blessing.

Photo of the Week-1/3-1/10

grismeily is shy, reserved and pierces your heart with a single stare. she is the youngest of four and the only girl. when i found out her mom was pregnant and that she was a girl, i don't know why, but i was so excited. maybe, if nothing else, just for her mom who was surrounded by boys. maybe because i knew she would be one loved little girl. and maybe because i thought, just maybe, her mom may warm up to me a little bit given that i had a little girl too.

you see, up until grismeily was about one month old, her shy, reserved mother was very weary of me. i had loved her boys for almost four years and said hello to her and hugged her whenever i could, but still she was very stand-offish. never rude or blatant, just weary.

when grismeily was one month old, i had been making headbands as a fundraiser for our ministry. i saw one that i had made and thought of her immediately. the next week i brought it to her mom. elisabeth's eyes lit up. she was so excited. something as small as a headband with a flower became my window of opportunity to love her as much as i loved her children.

even at age 22, elisabeth is one of the most caring, loving mothers i have ever known. even me, at 30, i don't know how she does it; caring for three boys and a baby girl. and although our friendship isn't where i would love it to be, i know for some, trusting doesn't come quickly.

grismeily and her headband, about 6 months old when she could finally wear it!