The Broken Heart of God

Sometime in the 1940’s Bob Pierce, the founder of World Vision, penned these words in his Bible:

"Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God."

While those words are old, I have seen a resurgence of the sentiment in the last five years. I hear it in song lyrics, from preachers and speakers and in conversations with other believers. It has become a popular concept to express.

But do we really know what we are praying, singing and talking about?

When I began praying that prayer in 2004 I had no idea what I was asking God to do in me. In my mind I was thinking, “God, help me see what is important to you.” But the words I was praying were, “Break my heart!”

If I had know what I was truly praying for at that time, I probably would not have prayed it. If I could have seen where that prayer would lead me, ahead of time, I would have likely kept my prayers focused on safer areas. But I did not, and God answered.

The answer began when we traveled to Korea in 2005 to adopt our daughter Kimberly. While there, God showed us the plight of international orphans and led us to leave the pastorate to begin orphan ministry. And my heart began to be broken.

It continued to be answered when we traveled to China to adopt Joshua in 2007 and to Guatemala to visit our future son Jonathan that same year. Then in August of 2008 we started Hope for Home Ministries and God kicked the heart-breaking process into high gear.

In early 2009 I led our first ministry trip to Guatemala and spent a week ministering to children with special needs. I returned from that trip shattered. I could barely function for the following month after returning from the experience. My wife would find me weeping in my office, and I would awaken from dreams sobbing.

One night, after a particularly vivid and heart-breaking dream, I rolled out of bed and knelt next to my bed and cried out to God. “God, what are you doing to me? Whatever it is, I can’t take it any more! Please just make is stop!”

And in the quietness that followed I felt God’s hand on my shoulder and heard Him speak… “Daryl, that pain you are experiencing is just a drop of the pain that I feel everyday. I have only given you a small taste. So, what are you going to do?”

Fast forward 5 1/2 years through our selling, packing, moving, beginning of this ministry, opening of this home and so much more and you will arrive at present day. And, as I look back over our lives since this move I can tell you, our hearts have continued to be broken. I can also tell you that it hurts in ways that I could never have imagined.

We have seen so many children die. We have had to inform parents that, barring a miracle, their child will not get better. We have tried to comfort children through horrible seizures. We have seen children struggle and fail to complete simple tasks and then cry in frustration and disappointment. We have spent sleepless nights next to hospital beds. And we have been overwhelmed by the suffering and needs that surround us. We have had our hearts broken, over and over again.

You have likely read about our pain over the last month. The loss of our precious Thania, Yenni’s seizures, respiratory illness and more. Relax. I am not going to tell you the stories again.  But what I will tell you is that it has been tempting to withdraw from everything emotionally and settle into a place where our hearts will not be broken again.

One of the things with which I have wrestled is guilt. Some of that guilt has been rooted in feeling like I should have done more to save Thania. But recently the focus of my guilt has shifted. I feel guilty because I am still struggling emotionally from the events of the last month. I keep telling myself, “Come on! You know God is good and faithful! Everything has a purpose! Thania is with Jesus and Yenni’s seizures have improved. The other struggles (some of which I have not written about here) are under God’s control. Snap out of it and get over it!” Yet, I have still struggled under a weight that has left me feeling tired.

So yesterday I discussed this problem with God, telling Him that I was sorry and asking for His help. But, in the midst of my monologue it felt as if He interrupted me. It almost seemed that He placed His hand over my mouth and said, “Shhhhh!” So, I shut up and got quiet.

And in the quietness I heard Him say the words I had said to Him so many times:

"Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God."

And I suddenly realized that this past month has been the continued answer to that prayer I began praying in 2004. And I thought, “I really have got to be careful what I ask of God!”

In that moment I realized anew that this problem of suffering in this fallen world will not be solved with a band aid and a pasted-on smile. And I realized that God has not called me to be happy. (He has called me to have joy that comes from Him and does not change, but happiness as an emotion comes and goes.) God has called me to suffer. He has called me to suffer alongside those that are suffering that He loves so deeply. He has called me to mourn with those who weep.

And I finally realized that the sadness and weight that I have felt is okay. It is a part of God’s plan for me. And, for the first time in a while, the guilt lifted.

My friend, Steve Osborn, who has experienced his own share of suffering here in Guatemala, wrote the following to me in the days following Thania’s death:

Do you see how God proved His love for us in that He allowed Jesus to enter into this vale of sin and death, and to do exactly what you and your family have done in the life of Thania. Compassion...that's the frustrating thing. it hurts like hell. and maybe that is how it is supposed to be, as we participate in the sufferings of Jesus.

Paul wrote the following words in Philippians 3:10-11:

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,  and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” (Emphasis mine)

These words have taken on new meaning for me over the last few weeks. Paul wanted to not only know Jesus and the power of the resurrection, but he also wanted to experience the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings. And, as I have discovered, it is a dangerous prayer to pray.

Please understand, I am not trying to say that we should be walking around sad all the time. I am not advocating a mindset of doom and gloom. We should have joy and, at times, happiness in our lives. And I do. While this last month has been the most difficult of my Christ-following life, I still would not trade this life and ministry. Because even with all the pain and suffering that is around us here, I still feel God’s pleasure in what we do.

But somehow along the way we have surrounded ourselves with feel-good teachers and books that have convinced us that God wants us happy and smiling all the time. Platitudes and internet memes convince us that the Christian life should be candy-coated and fun. But we should have our hearts broken by the things that break the heart of God. At times we should be overcome by grief due to the effects of sin on this fallen world, even as we grieve with hope and work desperately to change the world. Just like Jesus, we have to wade into the sea of suffering and share the burden of pain. And when we do, it is not fun…it is not glamorous…and it hurts. But it is supposed to. And when we experience that pain we can know that it is only a drop of what our Savior experiences every day.

Yesterday we received a call asking us to take another child into our home. He is young, but his age is not known. And he is medically fragile. He has microcephalus, cerebral palsy, a severe seizure disorder, hyper-thyroidism and the after-effects of encephalitis. When I first received the call my initial response was “No!” I have the perfect excuse because our home is full and our finances are stretched. So, of course we can’t accept him.

Yet, after only a few minutes I knew I was lying to myself. My answer had nothing to do with how many children are in our home or the emptiness of our bank account. I have never made decisions regarding the life of a child based on such insignificant criteria.  Instead, I was trying to protect my heart from more pain. What if he comes, we fall in love with him (of course we will) and then he dies? My heart can’t take losing another child. Plus, can I put my wife and children through that again?

But if you know my family you know that the issues were mine not theirs. From the youngest to the oldest every single one of them said a resounding “Yes!” When we spoke with our staff and volunteers to ask their opinion (because we know they are stretched) they said “Yes!” And my incredible wife, Wanda, will never turn away a child in need. So the only “No!” was my own.

And I finally looked past my own issues to see God’s heart. In reality, every decent home that would be willing to receive this little guy is filled to the max. If we don’t receive him he will likely end up in a state-run institution, and his life will not be good. We have an incredible family, staff and volunteers waiting for him that will love him passionately. And I knew that my “No!” was not a reflection of God’s heart, but my own. And as I said “Yes!” I felt both God’s pain and His pleasure.

So, soon we will be welcoming another child into Hogar de la Esperanza. And we will pray that the One who provides us with the money and strength we need daily will also provide us with the hearts we need for whatever lies ahead. He is able, even if we are not.

So please pray for this little guy. There are appointments, tests and evaluations that will need to happen quickly. Our first priority will be to get his seizures under control quickly and make sure he is stable before beginning other interventions. We covet your prayers for healing for him and wisdom for us. And please pray that he will feel loved, both by us and by the Father that loves him perfectly.

Daryl, Wanda and the Crew

“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”   - Isaiah 53:4-5

Forward

I have been silent on this blog for the last two weeks. That is mainly because I haven’t had much to say. I have continued to struggle with the loss of Thania and my inability to save her. I have been plagued by nightmares in which other children in our home die, and I have regular flashbacks to Thania’s final moments. In brief, I have been in a dark place as I have tried to sort through all the emotions that accompany the loss of a child so suddenly.

On the Wednesday after Thania’s death a few things happened that showed us how significant the trauma was of her passing and related events to some of our biological and adopted children. Without going into detail, there were short tempers, emotional break-downs and acting out. When we went to bed that night we felt completely shell shocked.

Then on Thursday night (actually Friday morning at around 2:00 am) Yenni began a series of severe seizures that racked her body for three days. She had been completely seizure free for more than seven months, so this took us all by surprise. This was heartbreaking to witness. She could feel each seizure coming and would call out to me before going completely rigid. Afterward she would be completely drained, but sometimes another seizure would hit within five minutes. I suspected, and our doctor later confirmed, that she had an infection of some kind that was triggering the seizures. We did our best to control her fever and keep her calm, and over the next few days the seizures diminished in both frequency and severity, until ending on Sunday afternoon. By this point we had reached a point of exhaustion and discouragement that would be difficult to describe.

When God called us to move to Guatemala we felt that we needed to sell almost everything we had and burn our bridges in the US. We did that because we knew times would get tough here and we would be tempted to run away. I see it over and over again. Missionaries move here with a great vision and dream only to head back to the States after six months or a year. We did not want to be one of those, so, like Cortez, we burned our ships.

Nothing could have prepared us for what we have faced over the last 11 months since we welcome the first child into Hogar de la Esperanza. I have never know that such a level of spiritual warfare existed, as we have been attacked from every side. That, combined with exhaustion and the grief that has come with losing two children in our home, has left us beaten down and tired. But we cannot and will not go back.

The other day as Wanda and I were talking I told her, “We can’t go back, so we might as well go forward.” I know that isn’t much of a battle cry. In fact, it may seem kind of pathetic. But for now it is enough for us.

A few days after Thania passed away we received a call from PGN in Guatemala City. They had a little boy who is approximately two years old who has microcephalus and severe delays. At that point we were not in a place where we felt we could make a decision, and we told them so. They explained that the little boy had been placed in an orphanage in the city that was not for children with special needs. The judge had instructed that he could stay there until July 21st when he had another hearing scheduled, but he must be transferred to a home that specializes in special needs by that day. So we took a few more days to heal, pray and make a decision.

Last Monday they called again, asking whether we would accept him. It still seemed too soon to us, but we realized that there was a little boy who desperately needed a home and we, unexpectedly, had room. So, we told them that we would take him.

Last night, after a long day of hearings and waiting for paperwork processing, Milton Giovanni was finally delivered to our home. He arrived with little in way of paperwork. We don’t know his last name, his birthday or mother´s name. We actually know nothing about the little guy except for a brief doctor and psychologist report that came with him. What we do know is that little Giovanni has a big smile and a great hug. And we also know that Hogar de la Esperanza once again has 10 children. Forward.

I believe that God is trying to teach me something. Victory is most often not found in winning great battles or in joyful celebrations. Instead, it is frequently found in simply taking the next step, no matter how tired or defeated you may feel or how much it hurts. Sometimes the victory is simply choosing to go forward instead of sitting down or turning around.

And so, tonight we will love the children God has given us while we continue to look toward the future. I know that eventually the nightmares and flashbacks will stop, and I will be able to remember Thania without feeling responsible for her death. I know that the sun will rise each morning and this ministry will continue as long as God permits it. And I know that God is good and choose to believe that He takes pleasure in my next step, even if I take it painfully with much fatigue.

And I pray that those who are trying to continue moving forward through their pain will somehow find strength and courage from my struggle so that we can take the next step together.

Blessings from Guatemala,

Daryl, Wanda and the Crew

Raw and Transparent

Warning: This blog entry is an unfiltered glimpse inside my heart. If you are looking for an uplifting and cheerful post, then please read no further. These are the ramblings written by a man who still trusts and loves his God, but is feeling broken. Over the years I have been cautioned by a few people that I am too transparent in my blogs and will scare others, including ministry supporters, away. I want you to know that I understand if you read this blog and decide that I am too much of a wreck to support this ministry. I would not blame you. If, however, you read this and decide that this ministry is worthy of support, in spite of my weakness, then thank you. Either way, I believe everyone deserves to know the unvarnished truth so they can make the right decision regarding who they do and do not support.

As you know, on Sunday, July 6 we lost our little Thania. This was six months to the day after we lost Esperanza on January 6. I wrote to you a brief overview of how it happened yesterday, but I would now like to go into more detail.

Thania was completely fine on Friday and Saturday. We had a 4th of July party on Friday for the home and she seemed to have a good time and be happy. On Saturday that continued with no health concerns. When she came to us last October we were not sure she would survive. At age 13 she weighed just under 19 pounds and we struggled to help her gain weight. She was so frail and weak and could not swallow well, so we finally put her on an NG tube and she began to put on some weight. At the time of her death she was nearly 30 pounds which, believe it or not, was proportional to her tiny body size. We honestly believed that she had turned the corner and was going to be fine, even though she continued to struggle with energy.

On Sunday morning she awoke with a slight cough. Two other children in our home, Christian and Angelita, had been struggling with a chest cold, so we were not surprised or concerned. But just to be safe we started breathing treatments on both Thania and Angelita because of their histories with respiratory problems and arranged for the doctor to visit in the afternoon.

Then at around 1:00 pm Thania took a sudden and severe turn for worse. She went from what appeared to be a minor chest cold to respiratory distress in just a few minutes. So Carissa, Jeremiah and I climbed in my truck with Carissa holding Thania and headed to the hospital. While I was concerned, I was not in panic mode. We have dealt a lot with respiratory issues and I kept telling myself that you cannot just go from chest cold to emergency in 15 minutes.

But we had only gone up the road 50 yards when Carissa yelled that she had stopped breathing. I stopped the truck, moved to the back seat, checked her airway and began doing CPR while Jeremiah and Carissa used my phone to call for the bomberos (Guatemala’s equivalent of paramedics). I was having difficulty forcing air into her lungs, so I turned her around and did abdominal thrusts. Large amounts of fluid and phlegm were expelled, so I turned her around and checked her breathing. Still nothing, so I continued CPR and found the air was entering her lungs better. But after every three cycles or so I had to repeat the process as her airway would once again become blocked. (If you are a medical professional and realize that I did something wrong, please don’t write and tell me that now. I carry a huge weight and feeling of responsibility for her death and do not feel that I can carry more right now. Please give me some more time before telling me what I did wrong.)

I continued this process while we waited for the bomberos. At some point I realized that Wanda had run up the street and was standing next to me. I felt her hand on my back and heard her praying that God would help Thania and help me know what to do. The only thing I could think was, “I DON’T know what to do! Nothing is working!”

The bomberos arrived, grabbed her and headed to the ambulance. They put her in the back and I climbed in with them. At that point I thought, “Praise God! I can let professionals take over!” But it was very quickly that I discovered that a Guatemalan ambulance is nothing more than a high speed taxi. The bombero in the back did not know how to do CPR. He was simply rubbing her chest in a circular motion and trying to bag her every 30 circles. So, at that point, I moved him out of the way and resumed CPR.

At this point the ambulance was traveling over very bumpy and curvy roads at a high rate of speed. I could not continue CPR from a standing or kneeling position as I was being thrown in the the sides and bounced into the roof, so I laid on the stretcher next to Thania and continued. I directed the ambulance to a private hospital in Antigua and continued respiratory breathing and cardiac massage until they pulled her away from me and carried her inside. They laid her on an examining table and I resumed CPR while the doctor came in and prepared to intubate her. At that point I was pulled from the room.

At this point I knew she was gone. I had actually known it in the ambulance, but kept praying I was wrong. Her eyes were fixed and dilated, her lips were blue…she was gone. It took about ten minutes for the doctor to motion me back into the room and confirm it. And then I was left in the room with her alone.

Wanda and Carissa had not yet arrived. My telephone had been left with others who had used it to call for the bomberos. I was alone. So I went over and knelt next to Thania, I closed her eyes, held her lifeless hand and wailed. I had lost another child and it was my fault. Why didn’t I take her to the hospital that morning when her cough first appeared? I must have done something wrong in my CPR process. Thania was dead and I was responsible. And I completely broke down.

(Please don’t write to me and tell me that these feelings that I had and still have are wrong. Maybe they are, maybe they are not. They are what I feel, and I guess God will have to help me separate fact from fiction as time passes.)

As I knelt there I thought back to Esperanza’s death and told God, “We can’t do this again! I can’t say goodbye again! This is not fair!” I flashed back over the last 45 minutes and lived them all over again. I saw her die in my arms again and again. My adrenaline began to dissipate and the shakes came.

And then another thought hit me. Carissa and Jeremiah had seen the whole thing. And Wanda had seen most of it. Are they okay? They saw their daughter/sister stop breathing and saw their father frantically try to save her (and fail). No one should have to see that. Especially not a 13 year old boy. And I realized how much death they have seen…how much suffering that have experienced. And for the first time I wondered if this ministry is harming my wife and children.

And, for the first time since moving to Guatemala, I wanted to quit. I told God:

That’s it! I am done! I am closing up, selling off, packing up and moving back! I am going back to the States and finding a normal job! I want a job with 8 to 5 hours five or six days a week! I want to live a life not surrounded by death and suffering! I will move my family back, go to church (maybe even pastor a church again), tithe, take care of my own and pray for and support others who do this kind of work! But I can’t do it any more!

I know that at this point I am supposed to share with you how the Spirit of God came and ministered at that moment. That he spoke to me and soothed my heart and helped me see clearly. The epiphany came and suddenly I stood up ready for ministry again. But none of that happened. It simply continued to be one of the darkest days of my life.

At some point I walked outside the hospital as Wanda and Carissa arrived. I met them and told them that Thania was gone. I watched Carissa collapse to the ground sobbing, and we all held one another and wept.

Later that afternoon I found myself waiting at the hospital for Ministerio Publico to come. (Ministerio Publico is the police agency that investigates deaths to determine if there was a crime involved.) Because of the events leading to her death they needed to come, take statements and remove the body for autopsy. Unfortunately, MP runs on its own schedule, so they did not show up until 8:00 pm. I am thankful that my friend and ministry partner, Manuel Moran, and his wife Cristina came to be with me during that time as Wanda and Carissa had to return home. They were such a blessing during that time.

Sometime during that wait my friends, Dick Rutger and Pat Duff showed up. They hugged me, wept with me, prayed with me and shared what were, I am sure, words of wisdom. But while their presence was greatly needed and wanted, my heart had not changed when they left. I still wanted to quit and walk away.

Finally, at around 9:00 pm, the paperwork was done and photos were taken. I gave Thania one last kiss and they removed her body. At that point I had nothing left to do but drive home.

During that drive I continued on the quitting theme. I was ready to walk away. But suddenly it hit me (which shows how unclear my thinking had been to that point)…what about Brayan? What about Alejandra? What about Yenni, Angelita, Rafael, Christian, Raquel, Esther and Olimpia? These are my children and I can’t take them with me. They depend on us as their family. We are all they have.

And then I thought about our rural village ministry…about the families that we work with month after month. Could I leave them behind?

And finally, God spoke. It wasn’t words of great comfort, healing or inspiration. They were blunt and to the point:

Daryl, go ahead and grieve. You are entitled to. But let’s just drop this whole quitting thing, because we both know it ain’t gonna happen.

And that was it. No open heavens. No angels singing. No burst of energy and passion. Just the awareness that I am not going anywhere. I am here…for better or worse…even when the worse far outweighs the better. I am here to stay.

So, yesterday morning I drug myself out of bed. Manuel, Gerardo and I went to the morgue to claim her body following the autopsy. We went with the guys from the funeraria (the place that prepares bodies for burial) and purchased her casket and waited for Thania’s body to be prepared.

Afterwards, we brought her back and had a brief service in our home to say goodbye and remind one another where she is…not in a box, but running and dancing with Jesus. Then we loaded her body in our van and Manuel, Cristina, Gerardo, Jeremiah and I headed to Jutiapa to take her to her biological family there.

When we arrived in their small village we found around 150 to 200 people awaiting our arrival. As we unloaded her casket and carried it inside, I saw numerous stares that seemed to be filled with hostility. From their perspective, we were the ones who took a little girl away who was alive and then brought her back dead. So, I could not blame them. In their position I would likely have felt the same way.

We carried her casket into a room and people pressed in behind us. Once we set it down we opened the lid and the crowd pressed closer. We were trapped behind the casket and could not leave. People were sobbing and wailing and we were crying as well.

At that point, Manuel began to speak. His words were from the Holy Spirit and he spoke with boldness and love. The crowd began to calm and listen. He shared the goodness of Jesus Christ and the faithfulness of his promises for those who receive him. He spoke words of truth and love, and the crowd listened. Their disposition changed. He ended with prayer as those around the room raised their hands in gratitude for Thania’s life and God’s goodness.

Then I spoke and shared how much we loved Thania. I told them that she was like a daughter to Wanda and I and like a sister to my children. I told them that we did everything we knew to do to help her, and that I had done everything I could do to save her the day before. I wept as I spoke, and the crowd wept with me.

By the end, we were welcomed and loved. Her parents and sister and grandfather all hugged us and thanked us for loving and caring for Thania. We gave them the family photo we took last week, and it was passed around the crowd.

At that point, we were able to share with Thania’s parents what we now believe to be her cause of death. According to the coroner, her lungs presented a strong indication that she had undiagnosed Cystic Fibrosis. We are still awaiting test results to confirm that, but the coroner seemed confident. If this is true, it explains a lot, including her respiratory problems, her low energy level and her sudden decline and death.

We had taken her to lots of specialists and had thousands of quetzales worth of tests done, but no doctor had discovered it. When we mentioned her breathing problems we were always told that it was related to her cerebral palsy. It appears the illness was hiding behind her other health problems. Ironically, a simple and inexpensive test would have diagnosed it and enabled us to prolong and improve the quality of her life. And that is another burden I must bear.

If this test comes back positive, we are going to pay for Thania’s younger brother, Henri, to come to the city to see a specialist and be tested. He suffers from cerebral palsy and breathing problems, just like Thania did, so there is a strong likelihood that he has it as well.

Afterward we drove home again and arrived at around 10:30 last night. This morning I woke up, got up, and started into the day. I wish I could tell you that I am once again filled with joy and purpose and things are good again, but they are not. I do what I do mechanically because it needs to be done. And, under it all is a deep sense of fear.

Angelita is continuing to struggle with a chest cold. The doctor came again last night and said she is some better. We are monitoring her closely, but I am afraid. What if I mess up again? What if she needs to go to the hospital and I don’t realize it? What if she is struggling with a hidden illness like Thania and I miss it again? What if I let another child die in my arms? What if…

Respiratory illness is a part of this life and ministry. On a regular basis viruses and infections invade. Children cough, medicine is given, breathing treatments are administered and we keep a close eye to make sure they do not worsen. Until Sunday I thought I did a good job of that. Now I don’t trust myself at all.

Dear God, I can’t lose another one. If I do I may crawl into a corner and die. I love each of them desperately and cannot stand another goodbye. Please help us.

I warned you ahead of time about this post. I am raw and transparent. I know God is good. I know He is sovereign. I know He has called me. I know Thania is with him and that she is whole and happy. And I know I am here to stay. But I am broken and scared right now. And that is all I have the heart to share at this time.

For those that pray for us, thank you. It is those prayers that have enabled us to continue to function over the last two days. Please continue to pray. Pray especially for our children who have seen so much suffering and death. Pray that God heals their hearts and gives them peace.

And please pray for healing in our hearts and home. Our house is emptier today and the pain is immense.

Because of Him,

Daryl

Thania Is with Jesus

We lost our little Thania yesterday. It was sudden and unexpected, and all of us are reeling and broken.

She woke up yesterday morning with what I assumed was a chest cold. We have had one going through our home, so none of us were surprised. She had a cough and a rasp in her breathing, but it was not severe at all. So Carissa stayed home from church with Thania, Angelita, and Christian, who were also suffering from the same illness.

As I was driving home from church I received a call from Carissa. She had grown concerned because her breathing was labored. To make it easier for her to breath, she had removed Thania’s NG tube. I was almost home and arrived a few minutes later. We quickly decided to transport her to the hospital, so Carissa, Jeremiah, Thania and I loaded up in my truck, backed out of the courtyard and started driving. About 50 yards up the street Carissa yelled that she had stopped breathing, so I stopped and moved to the back seat and began CPR while Carissa and Jeremiah contacted the bomberos (paramedics). I did CPR until they arrived and then continued it in the ambulance all the way to the hospital. I did everything I knew to do, but could not save her.

We rejoice that Thania is whole. We know she is safe in Jesus’ arms. She now runs, jumps and plays, and we are happy for her. But we are struggling on this side of the story. Our pain is great, and I feel responsible. I missed the fact that it was something serious. I thought it was another cold or virus like so many that go through our home. And now I wonder if there were other signs that I missed. Regardless, our home is one more child emptier and our hearts are breaking.

We are going this morning to collect her body from the coroner. Her biological family has requested that she be buried near them in Jutiapa. They have no money, so we are going to pay for the funeral expenses. We hope to have a service for her here before we transport her to her family.

Thank for your prayers. I cannot remember a time in which we have needed them more.

Daryl, Wanda and Family

Interruptions and Tin Foil

Once again it has been far too long since my last blog post. I have sat down to write several times, but seem to be constantly interrupted. For example, the first and second sentences of this post were written Friday morning, June 20, but it is now Monday afternoon the 23rd as I am writing the third sentence. One of the pastors with which I worked as a youth pastor used to tell me, “Ministry is what happens during the interruptions.” I have found that to be very true during my 25 years of ministry.

First, some updates…

Little Olimpia is doing well. She has gained almost a pound in the last three weeks, which takes her to a whopping 6 1/2 pounds. At 6 months and 10 days old, she is still way too tiny. Her skin on her arms and legs hangs from her bones, and they are so thin. A child her age should have rolls of fat, but she has none. However, little by little we are seeing her grow and gain weight.

One positive thing we have seen from her is she cries more. That may not seem positive, but it is. When a child does not have their needs met for a long period, they stop crying. Their cry is their way of asking for help, but when the cry remains unanswered (for example, when their hunger pains are not satisfied) for long periods, they stop asking for help. She has learned that her needs will be met and feels free to tell us about them in ever-increasing volume. However, most of the time she is content and happy. She will play quietly with toys hanging from her swing and “talk” to herself for long periods.

Last week we were able to take Manuel in to pick up his newly fitted hearing aids. (You might remember that I met his dad while he was going door-to-door looking for work. We have found a sponsor for the hearing aid refitting, batteries, food and rent until his dad finds work.) When the hearing aids were placed in his ears, his face lit up in a smile. Once again, a whole new world has been opened to him and he should be able to begin school at the beginning of next year as a result. This is just one small example of what child sponsorship can do to transform a life.

His parents have been overwhelmed to the point of tears numerous times as the sponsor’s gift has helped change their circumstances. God is doing great things in their lives as a result. Please pray for them in the days ahead.

On June 2 – 6 we had the privilege of once again working with a therapy team from Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio. Every year they bring a group of quality therapists and students along to serve in Guatemala. Last year we worked with them for the first time, and the experience was so positive we could not wait to work with them again.

On our first day with them they spent the entire day just working with the children in our home. This was so valuable to us as we crave quality therapeutic help. We have an excellent therapist, Lisa Monterroso (another Xavier grad who serves with their team each year), who works with us every week, but all of us were glad to have additional input and help with our kids.

The second day we hosted a clinic in our home for the entire community. That day our home was filled with neighbors and new friends as people lined up to be seen. As always, it did not end with just therapy, but wheelchairs and walkers were given away and two wheelchairs were repaired. This was a huge blessing to our community.

On days three and four I stretched the team some. I had asked the Xavier team leader, Carol, if I could take a group of therapists up to San Pablo La Laguna. This was a new experience for them that took them out of their comfort zones, but they agreed. So, we loaded up my pick-up and van and hit the road.

We arrived at the health center and found a line of people already waiting. The afternoon was a blur as the team saw 25 people in only four hours. This is even more remarkable when you consider that most of the patients required translation from English to Spanish to T´zutujil…and then back again. But the team worked hard and finished late, feeling exhausted.

We overnighted in San Pedro and were back at it the next morning at a new location. Once again, the patients lined up and were seen and we were all tired by the end.

I am so thankful to Xavier and their excellent therapists and students who stretched themselves and worked so hard. We can’t wait to work with them again next year.

One of the blessings that has started coming our way has been drop-in visitors. These are people who come to Guatemala to serve with other organizations, but have followed my blog or heard about our ministry some way. We are getting increasing requests from these groups wishing to stop in, see our home and volunteer to help.

One of these groups have been the Heard and Kreul families. And what a blessing they have been to us. They originally planned to visit and work for two days with us, but they were such a good fit that their work has continued. They have done lots of painting, installed a wheelchair accessible walkway (enabling us to roll wheelchairs into and out of our facilities easily on a smooth, clean surface instead of through mud) and are today building playground equipment. Meanwhile, the other half of these families has volunteered in our home by holding, loving and playing with our children. We are so thankful for their work, but more than that, we are thankful for their Christ-like hearts and friendship. They are making a significant difference in our home.

I find myself once again in transition as our ministry continues to grow. My work load has continued to increase, and I am frequently finding myself overwhelmed. This has especially been true of my office work. I often tell Wanda that there must be someone better than me to run this ministry. I could work for them and do the real ministry while they do the paperwork. But I guess that is what heaven is for. So, until then, I will be turning over a lot of my responsibilities to April Clark, our Ministry Coordinator.

April has been such a blessing to us as she has taken responsibilities for our teams and has been a huge organizer for our growing ministry. Now that things are better organized she is ready to assume other responsibilities, including some of mine. In many ways she will be serving as an administrative assistant (in other words, my brain), and that will free up my life to do the things that only I can do.

Speaking of April, she just returned from a three week trip to the States where she spoke in churches in both Alabama and North Carolina. God blessed her trip financially and with additional prayer supporters. In addition, it has also kind of kicked off our 2015 team season with numerous registrations for next year. Already we have four teams scheduled for January and are expecting more registrations for the summer months. So if you are planning a trip for 2015 please make sure you contact April at april@hopeforhome.org soon.

Well, I had better go before more interruptions come. But before I do I have one last photo to share with you. Recently we were having some fun with tinfoil hats, and thought I would share a taste of that fun with you. Who wouldn’t want to support such a dignified ministry as this?

Blessings from Guatemala!

Daryl, Wanda and the Crew

Angels and Desperation

This week we received a little angel into our home. Her name is Olimpia and she is already woven into our home and hearts. This little 5 1/2 month old has Down Syndrome and weighs only 5 lbs. 8 oz. She was removed from her family due to health concerns and her severe malnutrition.

In spite of this rough beginning, she has bright eyes and is a content child. She stole all of our hearts from the beginning and we love having her in our home.

She has a long road ahead as we try to nurse her back to health and help her gain weight. She is on a diet that requires a special formula every three hours and several vitamins and supplements. Please pray for her in the days ahead.

Yesterday as I was completing the stack of paperwork that comes with receiving a new child, I looked back through my records and came to a sober realization. Since our home has opened we have said “Yes” to 11 children (the 10 who are in our home and Esperanza who passed away in January). During that same time, we received 96 calls for placements. So, for every child to whom we have said “Yes” there have been about 8 children to whom we said “No”. That hard number shook me…badly.

Each of these children is not a statistic, but a real life that we have turned away from our home. There were reasons why we said “No”, and I am not saying we made the wrong decision. I honestly believe we have done the best we could at hearing God’s voice when deciding. But that doesn’t take away the sting of wondering where each of those 85 children are now.

We are surrounded by needs, and as the word of our ministry continues to spread, the number of people seeking help increases. There are very few days in which we do not receive a new request for help or to accept another child.

When we picked-up Olimpia we received her from a malnutrition center in San Felipe de Jesus. She had been placed their six days prior, but when they realized that she had Down Syndrome they said they could not keep her long-term. So, we were called. While we were there, we were introduced to another little guy named Humberto. He is two years old and suffers from Cerebral Palsy and severe cognitive delays. It is hard to determine the cause of the brain damage. It could have occurred at birth or could have been caused by malnutrition. Regardless, he needs to be in a place where he will receive individual care, therapy and lots of stimulation. So they asked us if we would take him as well.

These types of situations are the hardest things I have ever faced. To be confronted with a child in need of a home, knowing that we have the skills, experience and care he needs, but knowing that our staff and finances are stretched to the max. Do we open our home to one more? And one more? And one more? At what point to we overstretch ourselves and cease to provide the quality care and individual affection that each child needs? If we grow too large, won’t we become like the places to which we hoped to offer an alternative?

Still, it is hard to say that little two letter word… “No.”

Today I was in Hermano Pedro Obras Sociales and met a little guy named Brayan. He has Spina Bifida which has left him paralyzed from mid-tibia down. He needs AFO’s (ankle and foot orthotics) at a cost of $195.00, which we do not have. Our rural village ministry fund is running very low, and I don’t know if we will be able to find a sponsor for him or not. But I could not walk away and leave this very poor family without help. So, we will be working with them to purchase the braces and praying for a sponsor.

As I walked back out of Hermano Pedro, I passed lots of people waiting to see doctors. Many of them had special needs. I want to confess something, to my shame. I walked out with my head down, not looking to the left or the right. I didn’t want to see the need. I didn’t want to see the parents carrying older children because they could not afford a wheelchair. I didn’t want to see the broken wheelchairs or makeshift crutches. I didn’t want to see the twisted limbs or the seizuring children. If I did, I knew I would need to do something, and I just felt overwhelmed.

Then, this afternoon, I ran into a man that I met two weeks ago. I first met him as he was going door to door looking for work. He was carrying with him his paperwork, including references from past employers and his background checks which showed no criminal activity. He asked me if we had work available, and when I told him that we did not, he began to cry (something you rarely see from men in this culture). He told me that he had a six year old son with special needs and he had been laid off two months prior. I told him we would arrange to come out and visit to see what we could do to help, but in the business of the last two weeks it had been pushed aside until a later date.

Then today I went up to out town’s health clinic to receive my final rabies shot following my run-in with the stray dog last month. As I was leaving the clinic I heard someone yell my name. I turned and found this father, Manuel, running toward me. He asked me if I had any work available now, and I told him I did not. He explained that he was out again and looking for any small jobs he could do to earn enough money to feed his family for the day. He once again started to cry and it suddenly hit me how desperate this man was. (I know. I’m an idiot for not being aware much sooner.)

I brought him back to our house and we fed him lunch. While he ate, he explained that he did not know what to do. He had been able to find a few small jobs that paid a dollar or two, but nothing significant. He also explained that he and his family would be evicted tomorrow unless they could come up with Q.500.00 (about $65 rent). He told us, through tears, that they had no food or money and that he felt like a failure as a husband and father. His wife had just told him this morning that she didn’t want to live any longer.

So, we loaded up a basket of food and went to visit. When we arrived at their home we found a small one room house with a thin foam pad about the size of a single mattress. The four of them sleep on that every night. We also found that he was telling the truth about having no food.

His son, Manuel, is indeed deaf and is unable to speak. Both he and his sister were well behaved and the parents were loving. But their situation was desperate.

As I told them that we were going to help, the hugged each other and wept openly. Our first order of business was to give them one month’s rent and an additional Q100.00 to help with incidental expenses such as charcoal for their tiny grill so they could cook the food we had just brought. They brought out a pair of hearing aids that had been provided to them through Ronald McDonald charities when he was only three. But he has now outgrown the molds and they cannot afford the Q.250.00 (about $35) to have new earpieces molded. But even if they could pay for that, they cannot afford the Q.100.00 per month for the special batteries that the aids require.

So, we have committed to help long-term and are trusting God for His provision. If you would like to help by sponsoring the following, please let me know at daryl@hopeforhome.org:

New hearing aid molds – $35.00 one time

Food and hearing aid batteries – $42.00 each month

Rent – $65.00 a month until we can help Manuel Sr. find work

You can visit Manuel’s sponsorship page at: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uUa_-hGGFBdyLA2lgO2k9m4PLlkk3YDsrIyAHiDbAKk/edit?usp=sharing 

Or, you can see all the children awaiting sponsorship by visiting: https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=0B6aLp2H6ERsfQllkeldhMzBSdFU&usp=sharing

Would you please pray for me? I truly need God’s help so that I don’t look away from the need. I also need His help so that I don’t look at finances when deciding whether or not to accept a child into our home or when deciding to help a family. I am weak and foolish and need to look to my Jesus who is both strong and wise. Sometimes I forget that.

On a brighter note, in about 3 hours our family will be heading to the airport to pick up Brittney, who has been in the States for the last five months! She has now completed her student teaching requirements and all the required work to receive her double degree in Elementary Education and Special Education. We are so proud of her, and even more excited to see her again!

That is all for now! Blessings from Guatemala!

Daryl, Wanda and the Crew

No Heroes

On a regular basis I encounter people who ask me how I ended up in Guatemala doing this kind of ministry. It is a good question, and I have spent a lot of time thinking about the answer. It is easy to throw out a quick response of “God called us.” But the actual answer goes even deeper than that.

How did I end up here? The real answer is that I discovered a secret that completely rocked my world. It was a revolutionary truth that had remained hidden for most of my life, but when I discovered it, it forever changed me and my family.

If you are interested, I will share it with you. Lean close into your screen and I will digitally whisper it to you. Ready? Here you go…

There are no heroes.

Did you catch that? It is an amazing truth!

For most of my life I assume there were heroes. Through the first half of my Christian walk I would encounter people that just seemed better, brighter and more filled with faith than me, and I would put them on a pedestal. They were the missionaries. They were those who would begin ministries that would thrive and touch the world. They were the ones that I saw making a real difference for the kingdom. And I labeled them heroes.

They had it all figured out. They didn’t wrestle with doubts and fears. They knew just what to do. They never fell into discouragement. They never screwed up. They never wondered if they were doing the right thing. They heard God’s voice clearly and followed Him boldly.

And, of course, I did not place myself among them. I could never fit in with such a group. I could never be used in those ways. Sure, I could be faithful in a few little things, and God would probably bless some of them. But I could never be a hero. (And I was right.)

In my mind there were the heroes of the faith…and then there was the rest of us. Those who do great things for God and those of us who somehow survive intact. I knew, in my heart, that I would always be a part of the latter.

When I was about 10 years old my father, in a moment of anger and frustration, pointed his finger at me and spoke words that I will never forget. They scarred me so deeply that I still feel them 37 years later. They have governed the way I see myself and the way I have approached the world for much of my life. What did he say?

“You will never amount to anything!”

I know some of you are wincing and thinking what a horrible dad I must have had. But he was not a bad father. He truly loved me, and I know it would have shattered him if he had understood the impact those words would have on my life and heart. I forgave him long ago, and understand that he was simply spreading the pain that had been heaped on him in the same way I have unintentionally splattered my own children with some of my residual pain. In fact, considering his background, I had a good dad who went a long way toward breaking the cycle of sin and ugliness that he could have continued.

But those words have deeply impacted my life. That comment sits in the back of my mind, waiting to rear its ugly head. In my heart I have always known that I would never amount to anything. So, as I watched this parade of heroes pass through my life, I knew that I could never be one of them. I could love my wife, love my children, do a decent job as a husband, father and minister, but I would never do great things for the God I love and serve. And every time things would go badly I would hear those words again... “See, you will never amount to anything.”

But then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit me one day. There are no heroes. The people that God uses to do great things wrestle with fear and doubt. They wonder, at times, are the doing the right thing. They stumble and fall and rely on God’s grace to be new every morning. They are not heroes.

These people are simply people who have decided to trust God, believe His Word and follow. They are broken and scarred, just like me. They face discouragement and failure, just like me. They have their own harsh words that play in their minds at times, just like me. They know the grip of fear, just like me. There are no heroes, just people who believe and follow, one step at a time.

And suddenly I realized that the world would not be saved by heroes, because there were none. If the world would ever be saved it would be saved by sinners who have been saved by grace, just like me. So I started believing more and following with greater boldness, knowing that I didn’t need to be a hero. I just needed to be His.

And since that day life has been an adventure. But I have never been, nor will I ever be, a hero. That is why it bothers me so much when I sense people are beginning to see me as I used to see those others, as somehow set apart or special. I am not special (except that I am God’s child), and I am not a hero. I am not some incredible man of God. I stumble and fall. I get discouraged and broken. I let others down and wound them with far too frequent regularity. And I still hear my father’s voice on the down days and, at times, I believe it.

Recently, one of my friends told me about his doubts he had about me when we first moved to Guatemala. He told me that when he met me I had just moved here, could not speak Spanish and did not know what I was doing. He heard me speak about our dream of a group home for children with special needs and seriously wondered if it would ever become reality. I laughed when he told me that, because I had the same doubts. Now, three-and-a-half years later, I still struggle with Spanish and still don’t know what I am doing. Yet, somehow, God is accomplishing His purposes. He does that, not because of who I am, but because of who He is. And that is true for every missionary I know that is building God’s kingdom.

So, that is my secret. There are no heroes. There is just you, me and the wonderful grace of God. If you are waiting for your doubts and fears to go away and for you to become a hero before you do your part to change the world, good luck with that. It is not going to happen. You and I are not heroes, but we don’t need to be. We just need to believe and follow one step at a time.

The dying world around us is waiting, not for heroes, but for real people like you and I who love and serve a very real Jesus Christ. And, by the way, we WILL amount to something when God is finished, because His math is perfect and we are multiplied by His goodness.

Because of Him,

Daryl