Sometimes... it all falls apart

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged.  I’ve had a lot to say but haven’t felt like I had the freedom to be honest with myself, supporters, co-workers or the on-looking world in general.

For reasons that are beyond me, I have gotten the impression over the years that support raising missionaries are supposed to share only the “good” stuff.  You know all the stuff that is uplifting, inspiring and leaves the reader/supporter feeling encouraged.  So when things fall apart, what am I supposed to say?  I haven’t had a clue other than what I know to be the truth. Since the truth rips my heart out just thinking about it – I haven’t attempted to make it sound “pretty.” I haven't honestly felt strong enough to even try. Thus, I’ve gone silent on here.

Truth is, I’ve been going through a lot of raw, uncontrolled, rip your heart out, take your breath away, can’t sleep at night, don’t feel like eating, words can’t express grief.

I’ve gone from complete and total shock to numb to angry to blaming the world.  And I’ve cycled through that and bounced around those phases for months now.

I wish I could say that everything is fine, I feel no other emotion than the joy of the lord, I’ve forgiven everyone involved, I see all the why’s to why all this happened, I’ve learned major life lessons and am now all the wiser.  But truth is – most days I am trying to just not cry uncontrollably when I go through my daily routine and EVERYTHING reminds me of my children – breakfast cereal, doing the dishes, toothpaste, ESPN, my favorite chips, laundry, bedtime, any Mom with her children on the street, mopping my house, driving by their soccer fields, etc.  Some days, I struggle to get out of bed in the morning or walk out of my house at all.

So what happened?  Good question.  Details are messy and in my mind kind of complicated.

Bottom line… 84 days ago, I lost my 10 boys.  I’m not their caregiver anymore. I was told to move out of the orphanage.  They now live in other dorms with other people.

Why? How? When?  Yeah all of that doesn’t really matter.  Sure my head wrestles with all of those messy details to try to make sense out of everything.  But I don’t think the heart dwells or cares too much about such details.  All mine knows these days is loss.  Deep loss.  As many of you gathered, I loved and still love each of those boys as if they were my own.  I have to remind myself that they aren’t dead – or that it’s like when a kid moves on to go to college.  I don’t get to tuck Victor, Kevin, Gustavo, Cesareo, JD, Israel, Jose Antonio, Angel, Arturo or Willy into their beds at night.  I don’t get to tell them multiple times a day that I think they are awesome, smart, handsome, worth something and valuable to me and image bearers of the God Almighty who is obsessed with each of them more than they could ever imagine. 

So there you have it –  I’m sad, confused, struggling and trying to put one foot in front of the other in a direction of something healthy and God honoring.  In fact, this post comes from the back patio of a residential Christian counseling center that I’m calling home this month.

Bible says that each of our days were ordained by God before any of them came to be – seems like it was ordained long ago for me to attend the “classroom of grief and loss.”  If a classroom can then give a pass or fail grade (good thing for us that grades end when you graduate college right?) – I really hope that I’d “pass” this one.  I tend to think that passing something like this means that when all is said and done – I have passed if I treasure God above all else.

I covet your prayers for healing, wisdom and guidance for myself and prayers for my beautiful boys as they each have their own list of ongoing emotional, spiritual and physical needs. 

Hall of Fame

The longer I've had to get to know my boys - their gifts, talents, interests and what just makes them unique - the more I've started to dream of who they can grow up to be one day.  I dream of the kind of men they'll be.  I dream of what kind of fathers and husbands they'll be.  I dream of what they might study one day and what careers could define their adulthood.

Parents, I'm convinced, like to think that their own children are the most handsome, smartest, most talented and funniest children to have ever walked the Earth.  We brag about them all day long to our friends, co-workers and we put their precious faces all over social media don't we?  Why?  Because we are obsessed with them.

I am absolutely no exception to any of that - just my kids aren't mine.  My kids live in an orphanage.  My boys have lived at the same orphanage for the past 7, 8, 12 years and my oldest kid is 13 years old.
I hope and pray that my boys grow up to be men of integrity, passion, service and live lives full of joy.  I pray that they don't repeat the cycle of following in the footsteps of the generation before them who after leaving the orphanage, abandon their own children at the same orphanage just a few years later. I pray that they have a family one day and I pray that they can hold down a job.  I pray that they can make a living doing something that they love, using their unique gifts and talents to not only feed their family but to glorify their Maker.

I pray that nothing holds them back - not their friends, street gangs, poverty, unwanted pregnancy, or selfish desires.  I pray that my boys can study something useful for their future.

Parents try to give their kids every single tool imaginable for what challenges life might throw at them - so that they are ready and equipped.  I tried to teach my kids the importance of their education and the ability to read.  And you better believe that I am so proud of each and every one of them.  More than anything though - I'm proud of how proud they are of themselves when they see what they've accomplished.

Check out the chapter books my boys have read.  Due to privacy laws in this state, I can't post the pictures of their beautiful smiling faces but you can use your imagination.

you can be the greatest, you can move a mountain

you can be a master, don't wait for luck

dedicate yourself and you can find yourself standing in the hall of fame

you can go the distance, you can run the mile

how are you ever going to know, if you never even try?

be a champion, be students, be teachers, be politicians, be preachers

This story, the story of their lives, is no where near over.  In fact, this is just the beginning.  God knows the plans that He has for them... plans for a hope, plans for a future...

Value

Today my foster son told me, "Caroline everyone says that I'm not good at anything.  They say that I'm good for nothing but look at my plants.  I'm actually good at plants.  People see my plants and they say that I'm good at plants.  They are surprised that I'm good at something." 

Daily I have conversations with this same child about his identity.  His self confidence is smaller than most of the seeds in his seed packets.  He doesn't believe that he is handsome or smart or funny or good at school or able to behave well.  Before he asks me for something, he tells me the negative response he anticipates me to respond with.  He often refuses photos to be taken of him because he feels ugly.  He has a huge complex about how short he is - his growth has been stunted due to stress in his little body from everything that life has thrown his way.

The other day he and I were running an errand in Sammy's car and I told him that I really like him and that I just love being with him.  And he looked at me like I was insane and asked, "why do you like me?!"  I told him, "I like you because you are smart, handsome, really funny, and completely unashamed to have your own preferences unlike other kids who only say they like something because they think it will make them cool in the eyes of others.  You on the other hand know what you like and are unique.  I love that about you."

My little man has a green thumb.  I'd actually say that he loves plants and growing things so much that he has 2 green thumbs.  He loves to rip plants out of the ground (like cactuses around the field) and put them into plastic bottles and make them "his."  He did this for months.  He has taken raw beans from the dining hall and turned them into plants in my bedroom.  His Back2Back Child Sponsor got involved and sent him plant kits.  Last week a Back2Back team was serving at this orphanage all week and they brought him something like 20 packets of seeds so I took him to buy some dirt and we now have a huge garden out back behind our dorm.

At bedtime most nights as I tuck him into bed, after our bedtime prayer, I tell him what I dream for his future.  I tell him all about the garden center he could own and operate one day and we talk about what that would be like.

As much as it pains my heart to hear him say things like "I'm not good at anything but I'm good at plants," I know that this is just the beginning.  My little man's story is far from over and God is using plants to show him that he is good at something.  

I think we all need reminders sometimes that we are valuable.  Who we are and who we believe that we are makes all the difference. 1 Peter 2:9-10 tells us, "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out the darkness into his wonderful light.  Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy." 

Pray

For several months now, I've been reading and re-reading this passage in Ephesians 6 about the kind of defense we need to take up against Satan.  

When things are easy and going our way - we often forget that we need to be strong in the Lord and not in our own strength or power.  In ease, I think it's easy to put your guard down. 

But when your guard is down that's when you are most susceptible to attack.  And 1 Peter 5 tells us that Satan prowls around like a roaring lion looking for his next victim.


Ephesians 6 - The Armor of God

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,which is the word of God.

18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.19 Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.

We don't battle against all the junk and sin that we see play out in front of our earthly eyes - we battle against Satan.  

So let's do some battle.  Pray for us.  Pray for our boys.  Pray for Back2Back.  Pray for us to be strong in the Lord and to claim His victories for the orphans He's called us to defend.  

Guilty as charged

I'm learning that sometimes moms make mistakes with their kids.  This week, I have 9 kids.  And if you asked each of my 9 boys when was a time when Caroline royally messed up this week - I'm sure they could each start rattling off examples.  Bottom line - I'm so not perfect.  But as a mom - when you lose your cool with one of your kids - don't you feel horrible?  Don't you feel guilty? I know I sure do.  It leaves a pit in my stomach until I make it right with each of my boys - asking them for forgiveness and telling them that I was wrong.

This past week, I messed up with Arturo on Tuesday, Gustavo on Wednesday and Kevin on Thursday.

I hate messing up.  I felt horrible.

Today I was sitting with a boy who doesn't currently live with me (same orphanage just lives in a different dorm) and he told me that he's been behaving really badly lately.  I told him that everyone messes up.  I told him all about my week and all the times I was wrong this week.  Then I touched his little brown face and said, "buddy I want you to know something really important.  No matter what you've done - God loves you so much and He'll never stop loving you.  When he made you, I'm sure he sat back and said that you were the most beautiful little boy ever created.  Don't you ever forget that no matter how much you screw up, your identity in the eyes of your creator is the most important opinion of all.  He is wild about you and loves you more than you could ever know - even when you are misbehaving."

Why is that SO MUCH easier to say to a child that isn't my child?  Why is that so hard to say to my own children when they are being bad?!

Well this boy just lit up when he heard all that about how much God loves him regardless of how many mistakes he's made.  Sweet boy proceeded to tell others my same message.  Why?  Because it's awesome that's why!

God doesn't only love perfect people.  God loves the mess, the whore, the liar, the cheat, the murderer, the thief, the drunk.... God is love.  In fact, God came down into our chaos to rescue us.  He wants to meet you right where you are and have a relationship with you.  He's crazy about you.

Life

John 10:10 says that, “the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

This verse deeply touched my soul tonight.

Our enemy Satan only desires to steal, kill and destroy.  He destroys peace within families.  And then he destroys the family. 

For my boys – this could not be more evident in their lives.  The enemy has destroyed their families. 

But Jesus Christ came to give us life and to give us life to the full.  Jesus Christ comes to heal our wounds, bind up our broken hearts and restore peace to broken families. 

My boys and their families need the light of Jesus Christ to restore to them what has been lost for a long, long time – many for generations.   You see, a lot of my boys have moms or a dad or an aunt or a grandma but none of them are emotionally and spiritually healthy enough to take care of these precious children.  The same family members who were supposed to be loving and raising these children have neglected them, abandoned them, watched while others abused them, ignored them and hurt them.  It’s all too easy to place judgment on the mom who visits her kids one Sunday per month but the truth is – a lot of these moms grew up in orphanages themselves.  They are just as broken, bruised and battered as my boys – only difference is that they are all “grown up” and have reproduced. 

The only way any of this can change is through the light of Christ. 

I need Christ.

My boys need Christ.

Their families need Christ.

And when anyone encounters the living God… that’s when lives change. 

Would you join me in praying for my boys’ families to be restored to a life of abundance in Christ?

Healthy Outlets

           One of my boys (all really but one in particular) is very angry and hyperactive.  In meetings with his teachers and principals this year, I have said that I fear he’ll end up beating his wife someday or in jail because of how unbelievably angry he is. He recently had to change elementary schools because of his extreme outbursts of unfavorable behavior.  Several months ago, as an outlet for my own personal frustrations, I started running again after years of inactivity.   I’m addicted to it all over again, feeling healthier, have more energy and I look forward to it daily.  I wanted the same type of outlet for one of my “foster sons” of sorts (you don’t hear caregivers in an orphanage setting refer to their kids as “foster sons” but they feel like mine so I’ll use the term) so I invited him to go running with me one morning.  He loved it. Running releases lots of endorphins and apparently can have the same effects as an anti-depressant.  His behavior and sleep have improved as well as my relationship with him.  

For several weeks, I only brought him running with me – we’d go for about 2 to 3 miles each time.  But this past week, I decided to run long laps with about 7 of the kids from Douglas who have been begging me to let them run with me just so I could see who could potentially hit the streets running with me and keep up.  We ran for about 24 minutes and half the kids gave up early on – others stuck with it. I shouldn’t have been surprised at what I found but honestly I was….. one of my boys – my smallest little man who is a ball of well… I’ll describe him as a "miniature pit bull" of sorts --- can run for miles without getting tired.   He has more energy than any child I’ve ever met.  I should have thought of this a long, long time ago. Today as we were running through the neighborhood he kept yelling, “Caroline I love running.  I love running like this!”  Today he convinced a white pit bull off the street to follow us all the way back to the children’s home from 1.5 miles out – the dog racing back and forth with him, following us.

I want my boys to not just enjoy getting their energy out so they can sleep better in the immediate but I want them to develop healthy habits for life – to have an outlet years from now that they can turn to when they feel frustrated or angry.   Sometimes I honestly wonder if they are learning anything from me of value.  I often ask myself if I'm doing anything right with them…  I wonder what will stick years from now out of all the things I've tried to teach them.  Long distance running is something that I think is hard to let go of once you know how awesome it makes you feel.  I started running miles and miles on the streets of Cocoa Beach everyday when I was 12 years old and all these years later – it’s still something I enjoy and know helps me manage my stress and anxiety.  After my first run with one of my kids, I realized that maybe, for once, I could be confident that I was doing something right. 

For now, you can find me and several of my boys running the streets in the early mornings or just before dark (gotta beat the 100 degree Monterrey heat).  But years from now, I hope my boys choose to run out their anger instead of taking it out on those around them.

The Battle

2 of my little ones sleeping in the bed they shared back in 2010

Most nights as I lay awake in my bed at the orphanage where I find myself living, I am startled by the screams of one of my little men.  I hear him yelling and screaming and fighting and then jump out of my bed to try to find him and calm him down.  Sometimes he's in the bathroom - sleep walking, other times in my room but more often than not, he is in his bed... screaming and yelling.  He is almost always screaming something about a fight - and is often standing in his bed - totally asleep - having a nightmare of sorts - throwing punches into the air.

My little man is battling.

This has gone on for months and months, night after night.

We decided to try turkey before bed because we'd read that it helps kids sleep.  It worked like a charm for 4 months.

And then my little man decided that he was "better" than the turkey and that he didn't like it anymore and "didn't need it."

So then his nightmares came back.

In the orphanage where I live - there are no bedrooms.... just a whole bunch of kids sharing the same big room that is our dorm.  So when he starts screaming and yelling and punching whatever - it wakes up all 9 of my other boys. When I hear him... I literally run to him to calm him down.

Tonight we put the boys to bed and 30 minutes later - my little one is yelling so I ran to him.... found him on his knees in his bed trying to fight something with his arms all while yelling.

And then it's my turn to battle... spiritually.

I think sometimes as a parent - you have NO idea what your kid might be having a nightmare about and yeah we don't know what is going on in their mind...

but I know my kid's story - some of the horrific things he's witnessed and suffered through...

and tonight as I told him that he was dreaming and that he is asleep and that he is okay and that I'm right there - as I started to pray over him for God to just let his Holy Spirit fall on my little man to protect him as he sleeps... begging for rest and peace - I couldn't help but cry... A LOT.... right there, at his bed.

People often ask me how I manage to "keep it all together in the midst of such sadness or pain" and honestly - I don't.  90% of the time I think I'm a hot mess.  I pray all the time that God would allow my heart to remain soft and to not overlook the pain in my little mens' past and present.

Clinging to hope - hope for the future for some of these kids is a challenge for me.  As I tucked this same little man into bed tonight and I prayed with him saying, "God thank you for the plans that you have for this child.  Thank you that you have plans for his future to prosper him.  Thank you that you desire good in his life."

I might never have the privilege to witness those plans play out or what that "good" might look like for this particular child... and that's okay.  For now, I get to battle with him against whatever darkness is clouding his young life.

Would you please join me in praying for this particular child?
Pray for true, honest, deep, restorative rest.
Pray for this deep sleep to allow him to grow and develop and catch up to his peers physically.
Pray for his broken heart to mend.
Pray for his anxiety levels - they are sky high.
Pray for his self esteem, self worth and identity of self.
Pray for our patience with his less than ideal behaviors throughout the day.
Pray for him to feel safe.
Pray for the darkness to flee.
Pray for Jesus to claim his victory in this child's life.

Bless It

If you’ve known me for a while, you’d know that when I hear something that I don’t like or that doesn’t sound lovely, I often respond with a verbal “bless it.”  For example, “hey Caroline. My car just broke down and my battery is dead.”  That would maybe get a “bless it” out of me.

I’ve been wrestling lately with the topic of “blessings” or “being blessed” or what it means when we think “God is blessing” someone. 

Honestly, what does it mean to be “blessed” by God?

In our American Christian culture, I think we use the term “blessing” to describe when things are going well for someone.  For me, I guess my belief system defines “blessing” as prosperity, health, ease, comfort, what I wanted, when I wanted it, to feel at rest, to feel either in control, without problems, without struggles, without trials.

But none of that is actually biblical is it?

You see, my life feels like I live in a war zone and there are constant bombs going off and grenades of sorts hurled in my direction – all day, everyday.  I live in total chaos with 10 boys in a Mexican orphanage.  My boys are typically on the edge of meltdown 24/7 and the pressures from the institution itself often feel like a slow suffocation.

When I pray to God – I think I more often than not spend the entire conversation complaining and I actually think I must sound like a whiny baby to God.  I want the pain to be over. I want things to be easier.  I want my struggles and burdens lifted.  I want to rest.  I want comfort.  I want for the problems to just stop.  I want a break.  I want out.  Often I think I want “boring.” I beg for whatever “normal” seems like, etc.

I find the beatitudes in Matthew 5 to be mind blowing on this topic.  You see, Jesus stands up to a crowd of people who are going through some rough times and He says,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit

Blessed are those who mourn

Blessed are the meek

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness

…. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

REJOICE and BE GLAD, because great is your reward in heaven.”

Okay so if you are anything like me – when you read that – thoughts like, “excuse me?!” or “what the junk does that mean?” or “come again.” Float through your pretty little head.  If all of that is what constitutes the biblical word “blessed,” maybe we should think twice before saying, “oh hey – God bless you,” to whomever??

For a long time, I’ve gone to God in prayer wanting some really good explanations for the pain and suffering that my boys have experienced and continue to experience in their young lives.  I want justice.  I want action.  And I want it so fast – I want justice and action to have happened yesterday.  I want to see my God just show up and like a super hero in some action movie – blow everyone out of the water and save the day and take every single tear from my childrens’ eyes (and mine too b/c I’m often more of a hysterical mess than they seem to be).

But what I’m realizing or finally acknowledging/accepting/owning and finally willing to stand on – is the truth that God is our CONSTANT in the ever changing.  God is our refuge and our strength in times of battle and weakness.  He is our ever-present help in trouble (Ps 46). God is our light in the darkness.  God wants to be my shelter and the refuge that I turn to in the midst of the chaos (Ps 91). 

God never said that He’d take away the hard stuff (John 16:33).  He just wants to meet me there in the midst of the crazy.  God longs to be my break and my fortress in the battle.  He wants to be my shield for the fight.  He never said He’d make the fight stop or make it go away. 

And to top it off – God says that we are MORE THAN CONQUERORS in this fight (Ro 8:37) Like I can see God on the sidelines of a race just trying to yell and holding a series of neon signs that read,

“Race actually has no end until you die.”   (wow comforting! right?)

few miles later…

“So you should quit being stubborn and rest in ME”

miles and years later…

“I ALREADY WON!! You are more than a conqueror.  You have won. START BELIEVING IT AND ACTING LIKE IT!”

At the end of all of this – I would really like to hear something like, “You have run the race.  You didn’t give up.  You kept the faith.  You kept your eye on the prize.  Well done my good and faithful servant.”  And then in the background I feel like I’d hear something like billions of angels singing, “bless the Lord O my Soul! Worship His holy name!”  (It’s my version of heaven so I get to pick the song)

So back to the beatitudes… Matthew 5.  It times of total prosperity, ease, comfort, happiness – I think it’s way too easy to just straight up forget God –  His existence, involvement, provision, deity, holiness.  It’s in those times of just struggle that we more often than not finally turn to Him, long for Him, realize our need for Him.  It is in the midst of holy battles that we find our rest, our hope, our comfort, communion, and purpose in the Lord and in this life.

Immaturity lies to us saying that everything would be so much better if we could just coast through life and have someone wake us up when it’s all over and when I’m wiser and older and don’t have to learn things the hard way.

Luke 11 says that if we ask for him, he will come and give us the best gift of all – He will give us himself – his Holy Spirit. 

Ultimately – that’s what I want to long for… more of Him.  Don’t you?

Bless it.

The Easter Bunny

Last night, I sat my boys down in the living room of our dorm and asked them all if anyone knew why we celebrate Easter.  I told them that Easter was next week, they were about to have 2 weeks off of school (the Holy Week here in Mexico lasts 2 weeks and the entire country takes vacation at the same time) and I asked them what is it exactly that we celebrate on Easter Sunday.

I was shocked at their answers.  They went something like this....

The bunny!!

No... the egg!

No stupid! (punches kid next to him on couch) We celebrate christmas at easter.

We celebrate a gift from God!

Mother's Day!!

Day of the Child!!

Their guesses went on for a few minutes so I finally said that the kid who guessed that it was a "gift from God" was the closest so I asked him what that gift was.  He said, "the gift was love."

I mean he was on the right track but my 10 boys couldn't tell me what we celebrate at Easter.

Finally one of my older boys answered correctly and said that "on Easter we celebrate that Jesus died on the cross."

I then decided to answer my own question. At Easter we don't just celebrate that the Messiah died... we celebrate that he rose and what that means for us as believers.  Because he died and rose - he paid the price for our sins so that we don't have to.  Those of us who believe in Christ take on his righteousness before God.  That's an incredible gift.

Thank you to the Back2Back sponsor family who sponsored our Easter celebration.  We appreciate you.

If you only knew

Dear Sweet boy,

I wish you knew and I mean really understood how much I love you.  I tell you all the time and sometimes you say it back to me.  I catch you making eye contact with me sometimes while we are in church or watching something and you don't seem to be embarrassed when I mouth, "yo te quiero," (I love you) and point to me and you and draw a heart in the air with my finger - I love watching your face light up with a huge grin when I do. It kind blows my mind how secure you seem at some moments - enough to run up to me and hug me, some awkward american, in public or in front of all your friends at school ... yet so insecure at other times.

One of the greatest joys of my life is taking you to your soccer games and sitting on the sideline as your mom.  I love how fearless you are as you run after the ball. But more than any goal you've ever scored - I love it when you look up into the stands trying to find me to see if I'm watching and when you realize that I am for sure watching you, you light up with a grin ear to ear. All it takes for you to melt my heart is one look. It's in those precious moments of your greatest joy that I can hardly believe that you look to share that with ME.

One day I hope you can look back at all of your years of living in an orphanage with Caroline and know that God loves you furiously. He will hold nothing back to pursue your heart - to show you who He is.  I pray you can see that and know your maker little man.

Life has handed you some really tough cards.  Your mom left you at such a young age.  She went on to have a completely different life and didn't invite you into it.  She left you full well knowing that you were in an orphanage.  She's only come back to divorce your dad and brought with her all of her new kids from her new family.  I know that hurt you so much to see with your own eyes.  But I want you to know something....  She's wrong and buddy - she's the one missing out.  She doesn't get to hear your jokes or celebrate your good grades or hear you say, "Thank you." She doesn't get to sing happy birthday to you. She doesn't get to tuck you in at night or kiss your cheeks.  She doesn't get to watch your school plays or see your beautiful smile everyday.

But guess what?  I do.  And I just love you.  I choose you every single day.  I chose to live with you and I continue to choose you over and over again.  Why?  Because my Redeemer lives. Because God loves you and promises to be your Father and come to you, hear you, rescue you, provide for you, defend you and lift you up and out.  I pray that Jesus captures your heart and life like he's captured mine.

One day, you'll get to leave the orphanage. You know because you hear me praying it every night - that  the desire of my heart and my prayer is that happens tomorrow.  I pray you get to leave and live with a family like YESTERDAY.  Someday it'll happen for real.  And I'll be singing Hallelujah and crying all at the same time.

You are so loved,
Caroline

You are special

Sammy and I live with 10 boys.  1.5 years ago, when the first boy's birthday came about, Sammy and I discussed what should be our policy for their birthdays.  We thought it was very important that each boy feel special on the calendar day of their birthday - remembered, celebrated, loved and we wanted to include their siblings and parents or family whenever possible.  We decided that whenever one of our boys has a birthday, that the birthday boy gets to pick how we celebrate.  He decides if he wants a pizza party or cake or a lot of ice cream or tacos or burgers - whatever.... the point is - he picks it.  On average, Sammy and I spend maybe $40 a boy.  But I must say... the look on the child's face when they see their cake or open a present is literally priceless.  So I'd like to share a few of those moments that happen to be captured on camera....

This child (above) for the life of him could not fathom that we were going to celebrate his birthday on the actual calendar day of his birthday.  He thought that was crazy and awesome. The night before his birthday, he could not sleep because he was just so excited.  He went to bed singing.  He woke up early.  He was pumped. And when I went to tuck him into his bed on the night of his birthday, he just kept saying, "that was so fun! My birthday was awesome!  Everyone liked my party.  I love my presents." (I gave him a $2 kite.  proof that often it doesn't take much)

Birthday boy wanted burgers.  So I drove to a nearby roadside taco stand (they are in my opinion one of the reasons that Mexico is a fantastic country - the taco stands that is) and picked up about 15 burgers. How's that for cooking?  haha and they of course came with tons of jalapeno peppers much to the boys delight.

In Mexico, it's a tradition that you smash the birthday boy's face into his cake.  We often cut up and serve and eat really smashed cake.  It might not look pretty on your plate but it tastes great. 

And Jose loved it. 

At Casa Hogar Douglas a lot of other caregivers for other dorms do something very similar and it just warms my heart to say, "YES!!" when one of my boys gets invited to his siblings' birthday party.  It's a step in the right direction towards more individualized care and less group celebrations.  

Thank you Back2Back sponsors who send money for your kid's birthday party or send birthday cards.  Those don't get lost, I promise you.  We are grateful for your partnership. 

Family Dinners with Becca

Several months ago, a recent college grad joined staff with Back2Back here in Monterrey.  Her name is Becca. She played soccer in college and likes to play soccer with the kids at Casa Hogar Douglas (the orphanage where I live). She has been nothing but a blessing to me and to Sammy and to our 10 boys.  They love it when she comes over to play soccer with them, read with them, help them with chores or stay long enough to tuck them into bed at night.  And Sammy and I love having someone to talk to and someone who helps us do all the dishes and the million other things we have to get done throughout the day with 10 boys to keep up with. 

As soon as we got back from Christmas break, Becca asked if she could cook our boys dinner.  Of course we said wholeheartedly, "YES!!" Since then, she's cooked multiple times for all 13 of us.  A trigger for a lot of emotional pain in the lives of a lot of orphaned children is food and meal times.  Meal times in a big dining hall with like 100 other people are loud, chaotic and often a reminder for a kid that they are part of a huge group, don't have a mom and it makes them feel unloved a lot of the time.  It triggers a lot of emotional hurt every time we sit down in that dining hall for whatever reason with a lot of my boys.  But if we eat in our dorm - they eat a lot more.  They are more calm.  If it's something I've cooked or Sammy or now Becca - they wouldn't care what it is or how it tastes - they think it's special and they know that YOU made it for them.  YOU care for them.  YOU went out of your way to make something for them.  They feel loved.  And Becca has insisted on doing just that.  For the record - she's a great cook and has lots of good ideas for kid friendly meals that are always spicy because that's what my Mexican pre-teen boys like. 

Typically in the dining hall, my 10 boys will run in, shovel all their food, refuse to ask for seconds even though they are hungry later, and run out in all of about 7 minutes.  I in turn have to eat in about 5 minutes to keep up with them.  But when we sit down as a family in my dorm with Becca to eat a home cooked meal - they linger for sometimes 30 minutes. We talk.  They joke and laugh. They ask for seconds.  

So Becca... thank you.  We couldn't be more grateful for you. 

SNOW

3 weeks ago it snowed here in Monterrey.  My kids had a real "snow day" and got to throw the first snow balls of their lives.  There was one attempt at a snowman by Arturo.  I woke up and looked out the window to see ice and snow everywhere.  Here in Monterrey if the temperature drops into the 30's they cancel school.  For most Americans, this seems pretty strange but considering that a high percentage of the Mexican population lives below the Mexican poverty line - many don't have access to any form of heat or insulation in their houses or really warm clothing.  Most kids walk about a mile or so to school each day and the elementary school that the majority of my boys attend only has enough electricity to turn on the lights or anything else in only 2 of the school's 7 classrooms at once.  So all that being said - Monterrey's public schools have lots of "snow days" because it's cold but for once there was actual snow and the kids had a blast.

One of my kids had some debt and was trying to find jobs to do to earn money and asked me, "Caroline I want a chore/job - got any ideas?" To which I said, "Gee I don't know... how about you get all the ice off the stairs?"  ---First time in my Floridian life that I've ever had that phrase come out of my mouth.  So he decided to taste it.  

The Light

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."  John 1:5

This verse rolled around in my head all day yesterday amidst the chaos of surviving another day of life with my 10 battered and abused little boys.

Admittedly some days are more difficult than others in my not so picture perfect orphanage sort of foster family.  Yesterday and well... the day before that one too and actually most days in the past week have been exceptionally challenging.

"Why?" you might ask.

Well to answer that, I'd probably start telling you about the chronic complex trauma my boys have experienced over the years or the number of caregivers who have left them in the past and then I'd probably try to explain the fall and why there is just so much sin and pain in this world.  Maybe I'd try to help you make sense of the number of times I was cursed at yesterday or the reports from school my boys got or why certain children throw tantrums at bedtime or the fist fight at dinner that seemed to go on for 2 hours.... but truthfully - it does no good trying to make sense of the chaos sometimes.  It's just simply that - chaos.

I don't know what the future holds for my boys - how many years they'll live in an institution or whether they'll ever break the generational cycle of abandonment that seems to plague many of my boys extended families or whether they'll grow up to be healthy fathers and husbands who know how to respect others - but I have read the end of THE BOOK and I know how this whole thing ends.  Jesus wins.  He wins.  He wins.

In the meantime... I'm going to try to cling to the fact that the darkness can not overcome the light of Christ.

Please pray for us.  Pray for my boys.  Pray for them by name if you would... Victor, Gustavo, Angel, Guillermo, Cesareo, Kevin, Arturo, Isreal, Jose Daniel, Jose Antonio