The Choice is Ours

As my trip to the Dominican Republic has come to a close, I feel like one of my last experiences there serves as a perfect picture to capture and conclude my month-long journey. As one of my final adventures, we drove to a batey (the living area of a sugar cane plantation) a couple of hours away from the city. The Haitian people basically work the bateys as slaves, and they live in "houses" that are a single room the size of a very small bedroom, with as many as eight people living inside it. There are rows and rows of these houses resembling barracks with hundreds of people struggling to survive inside them. As we walked and drove through the streets, the director of the Compassion project in the area explained that most of the clothes and other things we saw in the homes had been gathered from the trash dump a couple of miles away. She told us stories, as she shared her struggles and triumphs. She was a Compassion child herself, and now she spends her life giving back what she received. As she explained the issues she was having with various aspects of the situation, especially the culture within the batey, I was in awe. I was amazed by her strength, her heart, her passion, and her willingness to do whatever it would take to change the life of even one child. Above all, I was amazed that although much of the time she was alone in her efforts, she was entirely at peace and full of joy without having lost heart or hope. Her secret is the knowledge that the battle is not hers...it is God's. Some of the things she talked about were having to prohibit the children from eating the rotten meat their parents are feeding them; dealing with the vast amount of skin diseases, and getting in trouble with the community for reporting the severe problems to the health department; and the challenge of growing these children to be godly men and women when they are living in very ungodly homes. She told us that despite the countless other needs, the biggest by far is evangelism. She concluded the conversation by saying, "Only when they are first liberated from spiritual poverty, can you truly begin to work on liberating them from physical poverty and the mindset that goes with it."

As we all climbed in the truck to drive to the trash dump, I tried to imagine what it was going to be like, but nothing...nothing...could have prepared me for what i would soon experience. As we turned off of the dirt road and into the dump, my heart sank and my mouth dropped open in disbelief. I had never seen anything like what passed before my eyes. They tried to discourage me from getting out of the car, but there was no way. I had to get out and truly experience what was surrounding us, I didn't want to look at it from behind a window...I wanted to be in it, to see it, to smell it, and to be standing on it in its real and raw form. Without thinking, I had worn sandals to the dump so pastor Jose gave me his massive tennis shoes making me look like a moon walker in the bizarre terrain. His son, Abel, also got out with me to help film and capture the strange world we had entered into. For the first few minutes of being out of the car, Abel and I were coughing and almost gagging at times as we attempted to adjust to the smoke and the smell. I felt like I was watching a horror film as I saw little kids running barefoot through the rubble, reaching down every once in a while to pull out some form of food and put it in their mouths. People went around picking through the trash with sticks and pieces of metal, methodically placing things in buckets or other containers they had salvaged. As we stood there, a new dump truck pulled in and everyone ran over in an attempt to find anything new. I got caught staring, straining my eyes and my brain to somehow force myself to believe that all of this was real. As my eyes were filled with the heaps of trash, the swarms of bugs, the red and orange fires sporadically burning in different areas of the heaps, the birds flying overhead joining in the scavenging, and the silhouettes of people moving back and forth seeming to blend in with the trash...I suddenly heard Abel say "Morgan, come back to earth." My response was quick, "This is not earth...this is hell." He just looked at me as both of us attempted to process what we were seeing for ourselves, in order to somehow figure out how to convey it to others. After a few moments of allowing the shock to ware off a bit, we positioned ourselves and the camera in such a way as to try and capture the heart of the scene...and the tape started rolling. I just prayed that somehow God would speak through me and that He would overcome my speechlessness so that we all would hear and see exactly what we needed to.

We spent quite a bit of time just walking around, filming, taking pictures, and talking with some of the children. We both agreed that we could have spent hours there. It was a world that I have always known existed, but you don't quite get it or believe it until you see it for yourself. What really got to me was the way the kids would blend in with the trash. I would look through the camera and think that I was just taking a picture of a mound of garbage, and then realize as I looked at the playback that there were three children in the picture. It was as if they themselves were trash, like they were equal and the same as the waste surrounding them. I wondered if that is the way they see themselves; knowing for certain that it is the way most of society views them. As I thought about this I tried to play with my perspective. First, I stood there and attempted to see them through the eyes of the world...what my worldly eyes saw was dirty, uneducated, useless, impoverished, incapable, rejected, hopeless, disease and sin ridden people. Then I attempted to see them through God's eyes...what my heaven-colored lens saw was so breathtaking that it almost moved me to tears. I saw purity, captivating beauty, immeasurable potential, limitless possibilities, talented, desired, and loved heirs of the king. The only thing standing in the way, for them and for all of us, is a choice...Who or what will we allow to define us?

We, as those who have seen, also have another decision to make. Now that we have seen and heard, we are responsible. It is no accident that I went to the DR, nor is it an accident that you are reading this blog...there is a purpose, a meaning far deeper than we can imagine. The question is whether or not we will make the choice to see the purpose, to be changed, and to be moved out of apathy and into action. It does not take an extensive skill set, a unique talent, persuasive words, a degree, or a mission trip...all it takes is eyes to see, ears to hear, hands to do, and a heart that is willing to respond to whatever it is that the Lord asks, wherever it is that we are. We should not live our lives waiting for the next "big" thing, or for a calling or purpose that is waiting for us somewhere down the road...perhaps when our lives are more in order, or when we have a few more accomplishments (by our standards) under our belts. What we need is to open our eyes to see our calling, our purpose, that is laced within each and every moment of each and every day. It is in the places we are right now...with the very people that we are with..what is it that we are waiting for? If we keep waiting to get past our own insecurities, or to become "someone" by the worlds standards, we will never get there, and we will never measure up. But the beautiful news that should free us into living as disciples and as world changers is that it is not about who we are or what we can do, but it is about who God is and what we will allow Him to do through us. We are so quick to overcomplicate when the formula is so simple...Love God, and love people. That's it! And when we really get that, everything else will overflow as a natural result.

God desires to love us, and He desires for us to love Him. He has chosen us when He didn't have to, in all our weakness and flaws, to be messengers of His light to the world. Each of us has a strategic role to play in that. That role may look different from person to person, some are called to give, some are called to pray, some are called to go, etc...but all are of equal importance as we are the body of Christ. We are composed of many parts, but we are still one body. Let's rise up and perform our roles. Let's do what we can with the gifts and the opportunities God has given to us. Let us not be satisfied with taking the easy way out, but let's give of our time, our hearts, our minds, and our lives. We cannot sit in comfort, safety, and silence any longer. It is time to step out and join in God's adventure. It is unfolding in our very own homes, outside our own front doors, in our schools, at our jobs, and across the world. Let's be strategic, let's look for purpose wherever we are, and let's be ready and prepared to say "yes" whenever He says "go." Our mission is that of love, and as Dana Candler puts it in her book Entirety, "Love is not love if it remains stagnant-it must keep conquering until it has won altogether." May we never be satisfied, may we boldly take our places on the front line, and may we carry the heart of our king to the very ends of the earth. TODAY! This is who we are called to be, this is who God says we are, but we must silence doubt, allow His perfect love to cast out all our fears (1 Jn 4:18), and we must realize all the fullness of God within us (Eph 3:19). Will you?...the choice is yours...

The Unexpected Picture

So here is your inside look at Morgan-real-and-raw. God took me on much needed re-journey in my life the other day, and I feel that it is something I should share with you…so here it goes…

It’s always interesting to see how God can use the most frustrating of situations to make something beautiful, and to teach us the most important lessons. A couple of days ago as I was playing with the children, my camera fell out of my bag and much to my dismay, the lens broke. For any of you who don’t know this, I LOVE pictures, so of all things to break my camera would not have been my first choice. We had an important trip to one of rough neighborhoods nearby planned for the next day, so as I looked at what was now a blurry black and purpled colored “picture” in the display window of my camera, I couldn’t help but be deeply disappointed. I tried to shake it off and get past it, but I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t on the front of my mind for the rest of the evening.

As I woke up the next morning and headed out, I just kept thinking to myself, “A big part of this trip is to show poverty, to let other people see what I’m seeing…how on earth am I supposed to do that without a camera?” Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but since I’m in GO-mode with only a few days left in my trip, this was a very unwelcomed glitch in the road. We piled into the car and drove deep into an impoverished part of town. After we had parked on a side street, we walked down uneven stairs and tight walkways to get to the heart of the area. The severity of the situation was quickly visible as we saw children playing in sewer water, people with their skin covered in sores and different diseases, children with bulging stomachs from parasites, and people whose bodies were mere skin and bones as a result of starvation…and this neighborhood was not just at ground level, the buildings that the people were living in went four stories high, so you were not just looking at the people in front of you, but those who were on their balconies, roofs, and stairs. We were entirely surrounded and submersed in pure poverty. As I looked around, all I could see were the shots I wished I could take with my camera. I could only get my eyes to focus on everything I longed to capture and show to all of you. After walking for a while from home to home in the chaos and desperation that surrounded us, we stopped to take a short breather. I stood alone on a balcony looking at the people surrounding me and as I did, I heard God speak to me so clearly. In a still, small, earth shattering voice He said, “It’s time for you to take a break from exposing poverty to everyone else...and time for you to really see it.”

For a moment I was taken aback by His words. I tried to fight them playing in my mind all the poverty I have seen in my life thus far. I have done a descent amount of traveling including places like Peru, China, and Africa, so poverty is not something that’s new to me…then it hit me like a ton of bricks…THAT is exactly the problem. I have seen so much of it, and been so exposed to it that to an extent I have hardened my heart to poverty. I have turned my emotions off so that I don’t have to deal with it, so that I don’t have to really see and feel it. As I stood there with this new understanding of the condition of my heart, I made the decision to get inside. I looked into the windows of the house across the street from me, through one of them I could see three children playing together in their dirty and torn clothes; through the other, I could their mother standing alone in the kitchen. She quietly moved her lips to the soft music that was filling the air, a miserable look of hopelessness covering her face. She was boiling coffee at the stove, and she just stood there stirring, and stirring, and stirring it…as if to stop would bring her back to reality…I moved my glance into the other homes, to a young girl sitting on her roof simply staring at the sky, a boy kicking a piece of trash rolled up in a ball against a wall over and over again, a man with rotting skin pointlessly begging on the street, and the hundreds of other of lives that passed through my eyes…and slowly, it began to sink in that this is reality for them. They don’t get to just walk through and take pictures for a day and then leave to go back to a nice house, a bed and kitchen full of food; they don’t have the opportunity to simply send some money to a cause and think they are changing the world…this is their life, this is reality.

In today’s culture it is almost a fad to put money into charities, or to buy brands that support a cause, which is great…but I wonder if that is numbing us to the reality of the world that is beyond our safe and comfortable walls. I wonder if we have been overexposed to the idea of poverty to the point of forgetting that it is not simply about a continent, a country, or a group of people…it is about a life. It is one heart, one mind, one prisoner, one child, and one future. We must narrow our focus, we have to look through the feel-good hype, and let our hearts truly feel for the people not just the feeling of donating. If we maintain such a broad focus of poverty, it is almost impossible to do anything to put a dent in it…but if we can hone in on one life, think of the difference we can make. Think of what would happen if each of us that we personally had a role to play with whatever gifts, skills, and talents we have been given… think of the lives that would be changed. It doesn’t take a lot, it doesn’t take an extravagant skill set or an extensive resume, all it takes is a willing heart, a choice to get inside…and the decision to take action.

Through Dessiray's Eyes

Have you ever had someone unexpected cross paths with your life in such a way that their face, their words, and their actions burn into your heart forever? I had one of these rare and beautiful experiences in a home sitting on top of a roof that overlooked the mazes of other dilapidated houses around it. We had gone to visit some of the families involved with Compassion projects and in one of them met a 13 year old girl named Dessiray. Upon our arrival she greeted us with a big, bright smile and directed us into the house to meet her grandmother. She was a bit bashful and didn’t say anything to us, she simply smiled and giggled with the excitement of our visit. At my very first sight of her, I was captivated. Her beautiful dark skin and her deep blue eyes were so striking that I had to force myself not to stare at her. She possessed such overflowing joy and innocence, so much life, and at the same time a depth that I knew went far beyond what I could see with my eyes. Throughout the duration of the visit, as we talked with the grandmother of the home, I watched as she sat seeming to be in her own little world. Staring, watching, and thinking…she still did not say anything. She simply sat seeming at times to be listening to the conversation, and at others, staring out the window as people passed on the street beneath us. As I spoke, I could tell she was paying meticulous attention to the movements of my hands, how I sat, and to the way my mouth moved with my words. When she looked into my eyes, she looked so deep and with such intensity that I felt like she was reading every part of who I am. It was as if she could see past my surface and see my soul… all the while maintaining her bright smile and her little giggle that was heard quietly in the background of our conversation. Once our questions and our time of sharing stories with the grandmother came to a close, I finally had the opportunity to turn my attention towards Dessiray. I began speaking with her, desiring to get some idea of who she was, and what it was about her that had me so mesmerized…After only a few short words had fallen out of my mouth, her grandmother quickly made her way over to me and said, “Miss, she can’t hear you…Dessiray… is deaf.”

…I just stared at her, attempting to make sense of her words. It couldn’t be possible that what she was saying was describing the girl I was looking at. I was already in awe of Dessiray’s joy, a joy so bright that it glittered and sparkled like a star in the midst of the darkness of poverty surrounding her… but for her to be impoverished, deaf, unable to speak, and to STILL be so radiant was almost beyond my comprehension. How can I have so much and still find reasons to complain? How quick am I to lose my joy if things don’t look the way I want them to, or if I come up against challenges? As I held up my life and examined it next to that of this little girl, God gave me quite the reality check. I knew that He brought me to her to give me the precious gift of learning yet another invaluable lesson. In that moment, I did the only thing I knew how do… I quickly wrapped my arms around Dessiray in a desperate effort to somehow express how special, valuable, cherished, beautiful, and loved she is. I wished I could tell her thousands of words. I longed to explain to her that her life, in only a few minutes of being with her, had changed mine forever, but I couldn’t. My words would mean nothing…all I could do was show her. As I hugged her, she clung tightly to me and looked up at me with eyes that seemed to encapsulate all the beauty in the world. As I looked into them, I felt like I could see God so vividly that I wondered if He had revealed his glory to her. Whether that be in the wings of a butterfly, the colors of a sunset, the sparkle of water, the dancing of leaves in trees, the loving eyes of others, or His vary majesty…I am convinced that she has seen Him…not necessarily because there is something extraordinary about her, or because she has found some unknown secret… but because she is looking.

On my way back to the car, I began to think about the uniqueness of eyes, not only those of Dessiray, but of everyone. Most people would agree, at least to some extent, that “The eyes are the window the soul.” Somehow eyes manage to tell more about a person than could be said by words, stories, or descriptions. Perhaps it’s because eyes display emotion, they light up when we are happy, look exhausted when we are tired, display fear and worry, and they are the gateway for tears when we are sad. Maybe they say so much because for most of us, they capture our experiences and paint the pictures of our memories. It is through them that some of the most beautiful and also some of the most horrific things become a part of us as we make our way through life. What we see, who we see, and where we see it colors our “window,” and leaves a mark on how we will view the world and how we view our own souls. This is why we often wish we could see things through the “eyes of others,” or we attempt to see the world through “rose-colored lenses.” We are aware that things appear different depending on the eyes through which we are looking.

A window is a piece of glass that goes two ways, so if it is true that the eyes are the window INTO the soul, that means they are also the window OUT of the soul. This makes me wonder, as I stare into the eyes of the children, what they see when they look out. I wonder how the “window” through which they see the world has been tainted by the things they have seen in the past. Many of them have witnessed more horror as children then many of us will experience in a lifetime. I wonder how many times they have watched as someone they love is abused. I wonder how many times have seen hands move towards and angrily strike them. How many bruises and welts have they stared at that have left their young skin scared with violent memories? How many times have they looked at their surroundings and found themselves standing in the midst of garbage and waste instead of someplace beautiful and peaceful? How many times have they watched the effects of poverty overtake the lives of their friends and family? How many times have they stared at an empty plate? How many times have they seen a skewed and tainted picture of love? What colors do these things make the widows of their souls? What colors are the lenses through which they experience the world?

As I look into their eyes, I can see so much pain, brokenness, and desperation; but at the same time, so much hope, so many dreams, and vast unrealized potential. The thing about windows is that the view of the person looking in is different from that of the person looking out. My prayer is that I, that we, can make these children see what we see. My hope is that we can clean off some of the mud, smooth away some of the scratches, and change the tints so they view their lives, their futures, and their dreams through heaven-colored lenses. This is what made Dessiray one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen…this is why her life is so inspiring. The secret is that Dessiray did not allow her sight to be clouded or tainted by her challenges, or her circumstances, or the world around her; but instead she allowed it to be defined by God. I think it’s time that we clean up some windows and open some eyes that we may all see this way…not through earthly eyes, but through the eyes of the King.

The Master Kite-Maker

Here in the Dominican Republic it is very common to see kites flying overhead almost anywhere you go. Children gather trash from their houses or from the streets that can suffice as kite-worthy material, and with it make something beautiful. Everyone here thinks I’m a little crazy for being so intrigued by what is entirely normal to them, but I see so much symbolism in it that I can not help but be captivated. Let me paint the picture for you…

They first time I really noticed the kites, I was walking through the streets of a fairly impoverished area. I watched as children dressed in rags with dirty bare feet ran passed me. As I looked in the windows and doors of the dilapidated “houses,” I tried to place myself in the shoes of one of the mothers inside. I imagined what it would be like to be stare at empty cupboards, not knowing how to put food on the table to feed my family that night. As much as I tried, I knew there was no way I could grasp the depth of such gut-wrenching disparity. I wondered as I turned my eyes back to the children, how may of them would go to bed hungry, abused, and without hope. I wondered if they would dream of escaping, or if breaking free from poverty was a possibility so far from reality that even dreaming would be ridiculous and too painful to bare. The weight of all of this began to drag me down. For a moment, I too began to feel inadequate, incapable, and unable to be of any use in such a dire situation and such desperate lives.

Just as my heart began to sink, I suddenly caught a glimpse of something fluttering above me. I blocked the sun with my hands to try and figure out what I was looking at. I soon realized that soaring, spinning, dancing, above the poverty I was standing in...was a kite. It was small, but it was like a banner of hope, glimmering in the sun to remind my eyes to focus on looking up. To remind me that my view is not to be confined and blocked amidst trash, disease, and broken lives; but that it is to be through the eyes of a God who has already overcome, and who stands holding out His hands to us from above all of it. A God who makes beauty from ashes, and who loves to go against the grain of what humanity says is logical so that He is glorified as He makes the impossible possible.

As I stared at the sky, I turned my thoughts to the design of the kite. I thought about how a kite is a kite, when it can fly. It does not matter where the materials were found to make the kite, if they are clean or dirty, new or used, big or small, torn, ugly, beautiful, red, black, green, white, blue, or yellow. It does not matter what the material was in the past, how many times it has been stepped on, or if someone else has deemed it as useless…all that matters is that the creator of the kite sees in it, the ability to fly. With some time and effort he manipulates and knowingly arranges the piece of trash as he forms his masterpiece. By the work of his hands, the identity of the material changes from something that dwells discarded beneath the feet of society, into something that rises high above the rubble and moves freely and majestically through the sky. It might still have a horrific past, the past cannot be changed, but the difference is that with a little help and belief, it is no longer bound or defined by what it once was. It is new, it is different…it can fly.

How many times do we judge people too quickly by what they appear to be on the outside, or based on the context of their surroundings? In our human eyes, it is easy to see certain people as useless, damaged, weak, or too far gone. Our tainted view can make it easy to rationalize discarding people as trash without use, purpose, or potential. Sometimes we even believe the lies ourselves, that we posses but a mere, lackluster identity in a superficial and surface-focused society. How often do our eyes get turned downward and covered in the distraction of the mud and muck of life? Why are we sometimes so quick to forget our identity as children who have been set FREE from the chains and bounds of darkness, addiction, sin, and poverty? We cannot forget that we were designed to fly, that the price has already been paid to make it possible. We have to first know and believe it ourselves in order that our lives may be caught in the glances of those looking up searching for hope …

I think God is waiting for some kite-makers. He is waiting to use our hands, our words, and our feet, to bring His message to the “trash” of society. We must be willing to be the vessels He uses to change their identities, to be the representative hands of the "master kite-maker." He is longing for people who will look through His loving eyes, beyond how the surface appears and deep into the hearts and potential of the most lost, desperate, and vulnerable of the earth. It is the weak and imperfect for whom He came to save and redeem …May we live our lives centered in His LOVE that we may see them fly.

What's my worth?

* Just a warning that some of this blog is kind of heavy, but I think we need to know what's up around the world, so we can know how to change it. So just be prepared...

On Saturday, we went on home visits to see the families of some of the Compassion kids. The "neighborhood" we went to is near the Compassion project and is extremely poor. Some of the homes were in such terrible condition that it made me sick. They are practically living in their own waste, with trash just being thrown out their windows, and their sewage draining in streams going around the houses...it is overwhelming to take it all in. A house is typically a little bigger than the average American living room, it usually has 8-10 people living in it (or more), two rooms (a kitchen and a bedroom), and one bed. What struck me most is the "one bed issue." The problem with entire families sleeping in one bed is that there is no privacy for the parents, and no protection of the children. Kids lie in bed at night watching their parents, and whoever else, and in turn being molested themselves by family members. It is not uncommon for a stepfather to have sex with the mother, and then role over and have sex with one of the daughters as well. It goes without saying that this raises a huge cultural crisis. Little girls are growing up being violated, used, and raped, in some cases on a nightly basis. They have no concept of sex being sacred, and in connection, no concept of being sacred themselves. Girls for the most part do not grow up being respected, cherished, guarded, fought for, or valued; they are simply objects to be used however someone in authority over them chooses. They are being robbed of their purity and their innocence by the very people who should be protecting it.

After seeing all of this and seeing the severity of the

situation I asked "Would buying another bed for the families solve this problem?" The response was that "It is often not about money, it is about the mindset." The parents, their parents, and their parents parents have all been raised this way. It is a normal way of life. If they are given money without education, the money would go to other less important things because they do not see the issue at hand. That is why the work of organizations like Compassion is so important. It is not enough to blindly give money, these children need someone to care, someone to talk to, someone to speak truth into the lies, someone to give them hope, someone to wrap around them with safe and loving arms, and someone to bring them the healing and life that we have in Christ. At the Compassion project, they are not only providing things like food, clothing, etc...they are providing an education. They are working against the grain of the current cultural and implicating God's culture in its place. When children come to the project they have the opportunity to experience love, and to be valued and cherished. They are enabled to dream; they are given the opportunity to climb out of poverty and to soar above it as confident, intelligent, and loving leaders, despite a seemingly hopeless past. It is such a beautiful thing to watch as these children are actually able to BE children; able to play, laugh, joke, and imagine. It doesn't take a lot to open their eyes to their true identity, to reveal to them that they are not children of poverty but instead royal children of the King...all it takes is for someone to care.

No Light?

I have been thinking a lot about poverty in the past few days. In my home, we still have not had electricity, and I discovered that we never have running water. I have been offered the ability to switch homes, because the nights are extremely hot without a fan; but my mentality is that if they are living in it, then I can to. Who am I that I should be pulled out while they are trapped with no option of a “plan B?” Therefore I have embraced the “sweat look” as my new style, and I’m just going to make the most of it. The funny thing about experiences like this is that when you don’t have things like running water and electricity, you realize how unimportant they are in the scheme of things. Sure they are important at times, and always convenient, but they should not be central to our lives. These people go without them yet they are so joyful, so loving, so giving, and so full of life. They do not have physical light, but they have discovered the power of the light of Christ that scatters ALL darkness. They do not have running water, but they have living water that rejuvenates and sustains even the most dry and thirsty soul. They do not have many material possessions, but they give anything and all that they have.

One of the Compassion employees told me a story about some of the students in the LDP program. Together this group decided to pool their money and sponsor a little girl. They themselves are Compassion children who are being sponsored through college, so there is very little in the realm of extra spending money. Sometimes they will even go without food in order to have enough to send to this little girl. When asked the reason for doing this, why they were sacrificing so much when they themselves are in need, they said “We want to give her our boots, and tell her to walk in our footsteps.”

I am challenged to my core by this story. How often am I hesitant to give? Why am I not quicker to make personal sacrifices in order to better the life of someone else? Think of the power this would have if we all lived lives like this! Think of the questions that people would ask, the curiosity it would raise as to the reason for our actions. Think of the impact we would have. …Think of the lives that would be changed…

Dominican Republic-day one

Hola!
I have arrived in the beautiful country of the Dominican Republic. The people here are so welcoming and so quick to serve and help in whatever way they can. I am so excited to share life with them for a few weeks. My home is with a beautiful family consisting of a mother and her two daughters in a poor area of town called Los Alcarrizos. Between them speaking almost no English, and not having water or electricity today, my first day has already been quite an adventure. It is a great opportunity to improve my Spanish very quickly. They are wonderful people and I am so thankful to share their home with them for my trip.



I spent today in the Compassion Int. office talking with the staff, learning about all the work being done in different departments, and seeing how everything run. Each of them is so inspiring to me. They are spending their lives "releasing children from poverty," and ensuring that they are being nurtured and empowered to live healthy lives serving God and being free to dream big for their futures. Today I got to see first hand the power the progam has on the lives of the children. I met 3 LDP (leadership development program) students who are being sponsered through college. One is studying to be a psychologist, one a marketing specialist, and one a doctor. I was in awe of their confidence and their joy as I spoke with them, and so impressed with what they had accomplished.

I was spoke with the director and he explained to me that in their culture a persons value increases with age and stature; therefore children are being overlooked and not viewed as important or worthy of attention, even by many of the local churches. He also explained that over 50% of the population is under the age of 19. This means that over half of the population has no one reaching out to them, and is being left with no hope, trapped in poverty and desperation. This shows just how critical it is to advocate for children in this country. How important it is to be a messenger of love, hope, life, and freedom to their lives. I am so blessed to be a part of it, and so excited to see the miracles that God has already done, and is going to continue to do here.