hold fast

It's Boxing Day. I am doing no things because that is, I believe, why the Lord created Boxing Day. However, since I can do it while sitting on the sofa under a blanket, I will write a Christmas update. Chapter 1: Carachi Christmas Project Each year, Carachipampa does a Christmas project in the community, and this year they each took a child from Casa de Amor and raised money for their school supplies and uniform. (It's still in progress, so expect many more photos...) The classes wanted to meet their kids, and the feeling was very much mutual. Chapter 2: Carachi Christmas Program This was only last week but it feels like a year ago. The kids did a play called "The First Leon". My Kinder class got to be the nativity. This brought on a number of amusing stories, which are hinted at in the above photos. Amusing Story #1 When informing the father of "Joseph" who his son had been casted as, he sa

Bolivia has had quite the impact on me, I’ve become quite the prolific kisser.  On the cheek though. Mostly. (Jokes.)  There’s the constant air kissing that is just cultural, but also, the kids at Casa de Amor have just the most kissable little faces. But for the last little while, I’ve been deliberately double kissing ™. As in, I’ll kiss them once, then sneak in a second. (Sometimes like 20, depends on cuteness, and if they need changed at that moment.) And here’s the reason. I’ve been listening to a song called “From God’s Arms, to My Arms, to Yours” . Musically, it leaves a lot to be desired as far as my tastes go, however, it is lyrically beautiful. It’s written from the viewpoint of a birthmother, and I find it compelling. It’s not a viewpoint I feel like we hear a lot, and it’s one we need to hear more often. Since I find myself with kids whose future options lie only in adoption multiple times in a week, I find myself thinking about their mums a lot. D

When I talked about getting a tattoo, and the reason for it, I got one response about half the time - I was told I didn’t need to get it. That’s true. The truth is, all of what I’m about to tell you, it’s true with or without the tattoo. But I got the tattoo anyway, and I can give you all the reasons for it (visual learner, permanency etc) but really, it’s done now - so let me just explain the reason behind it. Anchor of my soul, you sustain. When I’m in the storm, you remain, Good to me. Anchor - Beautiful Eulogy ft. Josh Garrels Most/all of you know that I was diagnosed with depression about 2.5 years ago. It was the worst time of my life, hands down. One side effect of it/the medication for it, is that my memory of a lot of it is pretty cloudy, but basically I couldn’t breathe. I had debilitating doubts, not in God so much as his love for me. I was convinced I wasn’t saved, convinced I couldn’t be. I heard about the elect, and it terrified me, because all I could th

Anchor. It's been an emblem of sorts. A symbol. A crest. Anchor. And a motto. A prayer. A noun, and a verb. Anchor. A song in my head. The cry in my heart. The only word I had. Anchor. In the midst of a storm threatening to take my very life, it was my constant plea. To let me know that I was held. That I was secure. Anchor.   And as it does, it remains. Embedded at the deepest point. Yesterday, today, forever. Anchor.

I posted about #danieleltravieso  a couple of weeks ago, but I'll be honest, I think I censored it fairly heavily. Everything I said was absolutely true, but it isn't the post I set out to write. I'm aiming for this one to be. D. has had a hard start to life. He was born to a mother who already had a host of kids in various orphanages, and in a family with a genetic predisposition to hyperactivity, by all accounts. He was cared for pretty well until he was about four months, when he arrived to Casa de Amor pretty severely malnourished. It was discovered that he had a severe heart defect, which was why he wasn't gaining weight, and why he was the size of a newborn. At this point a team of volunteers stepped up and cared for him, one after the other. It was great, and he got his surgery at 7 months, recovered like a boss, and by the time I met him last September he was a cute, healthy, almost 1-year-old. I loved him before I met him, just from reading all the blogs,

It takes a village to raise a child.  - African proverb I've always liked this proverb, but never really thought much about it, until today. Because I can't decide if it's more or less true for the hogar kids. The village is supposed to be in addition to your parents, I'm pretty sure. But that's not how it is for them. For them, their village is all they have. There's no consistant parent figures, just a lot of  tios and tias. And they know that. One of my biggest fears, always, is to attach to kids without parents. Not for my sake, at all. But for theirs. I've read all those studies that say it's better to attach and lose someone than to never attach. I'm sure that's true. But it's better again to attach and not lose it. Some of the kids have attached to their parents and been torn away. Or their parents have passed away. Some of the parents chose not to attach at all. The kids have attached to volu

We celebrated Purim on Thursday.  We were only about six months out. (It's in March, I googled it. It’s not a holiday I knew a lot about (read: had ever heard of), until we had a chapel on it this week, complete with a turtle puppet in the role of Haman. How does a turtle build such big, high gallows?! It’s based on the story of Esther, told in the book of the same name, which is the only book in the Bible where God is mentioned (I think…?) And the whole point of the holiday is this: God is there even when He cannot be seen. Like in the entire book, when He isn’t even mentioned. I needed that message this week. Because when two newborns are abandoned in the same hospital, in the same town, in the same week, I need to know that God is still there. Because when babies are born with problems that will change their whole lives, and the lives of their parents, with no prior warning, I need to know that God is still there. Because when children are orphaned, and have no family to step u

In the last week and a bit CDA has taken in two newborns, both abandoned at a couple of hours old. I wrote this almost exactly a year ago about another little boy (whose life has changed completely, in the most wonderful way, a story for another day...) but it rings true for these two as well. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the past Psalm 139, in my opinion, was a Psalm reserved for reading at dedications and putting in "it's a [insert gender]" cards when babies were born. I have since seen the error of my ways (different story for a different day) but it still has me thinking, what if no cards arrive? What if there is no celebration? What if it isn't the happy occasion we're envisioning? The first night I did night duty with sickbaby I read Psalm 139 over him for exactly the reasons I first set out - it's a good Psalm for babies. They were literally just