Feed my sheep...

Earlier I shared about having a case of the yuks. It hasn’t gotten any better as the day has worn on. This rash of flu-like symptoms at school was the impetus for one of the big things we were able to be part of ten days ago. There is a family of four children at school who are very special to my heart. Joselving is fourteen years old and in the fourth grade. He struggles with English and obviously, with other subjects, but he so badly wants to please. If he sees us arrive on Thursday mornings, he will run to help us carry our day’s load of bags, books, water, etc.

A few months ago, he had scraped up his knee pretty badly during a soccer game at school. The blood was coming through his pants and so I took him to the pila (the outdoor sink) back by the bathrooms and we washed his knee with soap and water. That was new to him and he wasn’t real excited about using the soap, but he was a trooper, gritting his teeth and blinking back tears. I explained to him that it was very important that he keep the area as clean as possible so that he wouldn’t get an infection. I had some large band-aids and a small envelope of antibacterial cream. I bandaged his knee and asked if he had band-aids at home. I already knew the answer before he shook his head “no”. I gave him the extras and the rest of the cream and reminded him again how important it was to keep it clean. His knee healed without incident and a bond of trust began to develop with Joselving. His behavior improved immensely in both Jim’s class and mine and he now makes certain to visit with us outside of class for a few minutes each day. He often has headaches and he eats the thrice-weekly school provided lunch like he's not had a meal in days. When I would ask him what he had for breakfast, he would act like he didn't understand. I had just chalked it up to being a growing boy and being embarrassed about eating so ravenously. Lately, I had started to see a bit of rebelliousness and hardness in his manner with some of the other kids, although most of the time, he was fine with me. I had noticed his grades were dropping but I attributed that to too much socializing with his buddies and not paying enough attention in class.

Joselving has a sister in third grade whose name is Talifer. She’s a little beauty and loves to laugh and tease. She has been one of my “huggers” from the very beginning. Like Joselving, she’s not the best student, but she tries and her face will light up when she does well on one of her papers. She loves the inexpensive bracelets and necklaces I brought back from our last visit to the States. She will lightly touch each stone or bead, her gentle manner belying the tough little gal who lives beneath her sweet exterior. Talifer fights to make the best of the life she’s been given. She often "mothers" the other children. She's the dark haired girl on the left in the group of three in the front.

There are two more students in this family – the first grade twins, Sergio and Genesis. Sergio is all boy, rough and tumble and quick to fight. Genesis whispers and giggles and pouts when she is unhappy. Sergio is the leader, Genesis walks in his shadow. Both are quick to defend and protect the other; both have the family smile and both join Joselving and Talifer in having a piece of my heart. They are often sick so it's not at all unusual to have one or both missing from class.

Their father is Manuel Luis and he works at the school as a janitor. We greet him every day, shaking his hand, asking how he is, trying to understand his lengthy answers. The familiar smile appears and disappears very quickly, depending on how things are that day. He has told us he would like to work for us. We have told him we have no work for him. I think we all wish it were differently.

Three weeks ago, the flu that is going through the school, hit the family, with each of the children gradually succumbing to its effects. It was like watching a slow motion wall of human dominoes falling, one at a time, getting better for a short period of time, only to be knocked back down again. It began with the twins, then Joselving and finally, the quiet little fighter, Talifer. We could see the worry on Manuel Luis’ face as we would ask about the children.

Thursday, a week ago, I had to run to the restroom before my first class began. There is one bathroom which is designated for the teachers which sits right beside two others, one for the boys and one for the girls. They are of block construction without any kind of insulation so sound travels quite well. It was not difficult to hear that there was someone who violently ill in the girls’ bathroom. When I exited the teacher’s bathroom, I saw Manuel Luis standing quietly outside. The door opened just as I was asking who was sick. There stood Talifer, pale and sweating profusely. I reached out my arms to her and she came to my side, wrapped her arms around me and began to cry. She was feverish and shaky.

I asked Manuel Luis if there was someone at the house so that Talifer could go home and lay down. He looked down and shook his head no. He told Talifer to wash her face and go back to class. I immediately felt frustration. She was sick and she needed to go to bed. Talifer and I walked together to class. I asked her what she had eaten that morning, thinking that perhaps something hadn’t agreed with her. She told me “nada”. Nothing. I asked about her dinner the night before. She looked at me hesitantly, shrugged her shoulders but didn’t really answer. I felt an unease about her vagueness that stayed with me throughout the class period.

Later, I had an opportunity to talk with Carla, the teacher. We discussed how sick Talifer was and Carla agreed that Talifer needed to go home but she explained that it was better for her to be at school than to be at home alone. I asked where the children’s mother worked, thinking maybe we could get word to her so that she could come home to take care of Talifer. Carla told me that the mother had left some time ago to go live with her brother in Managua and that Manuel Luis was struggling to take care of the children. I shook my head in disbelief but the pieces began to fall in to place. The vague answers about meals, the unkempt appearance with the children often wearing torn and dirty clothes and the change in attitudes all were a direct result of what was happening in the home.

“Why did she leave? What about the children?” I asked Carla. She shrugged her shoulders and then told me that the mother doesn’t care about her children. That she is tired of the responsibility of the children, tired of living in Los Cedros with her husband, tired of her life...Managua was the greener pasture in her mind.

I was furious and heart-broken all at the same time. Carla began to tell me about the children in that class alone whose parent or parents have left them. Some are left for a grandparent(s) to raise, some with an aunt, some with older brothers or sisters. All of them bear the scars of abandonment. I could feel the Mama Bear in me begin to raise her hackles. These were children who should be cherished and nurtured. Instead, so many of them are treated as a burden or an obligation. So many are neglected or treated harshly. Such treatment gives a message which intrinsically shapes how the children view themselves and the world. No wonder they are so difficult to handle sometimes.

I couldn’t quit thinking about the situation and after class, went off by myself to pray. It wasn’t long before I went looking for Pastora, the director of the school. I asked her to tell me about what was going on with Manuel Luis and his family. She basically repeated the story Carla had told me earlier but added more details which confirmed that these children were not thriving either physically or emotionally. She had said that Manuel Luis had come to the school asking for a job and although they didn’t need help, they felt as though they needed to hire him to help with the family situation as much as possible. He had quit working a better job in Managua in order to stay in Los Cedros to take care of his children.

I felt a strong compulsion to intervene somehow but Jim was out at the garden and I couldn’t talk with him about it. I could see him over Pastora’s shoulder and it took only a few seconds to realize he would back me 100% on whatever I felt God was leading us to do. I asked Pastora if we could contribute some food to the family. I told her I couldn’t bring the mother home but we could help with some basic foods to help get some food in those children’s tummies right away. I asked if she could make a list for me of how much we needed to buy to provide enough of the staples for a week.

She was very happy that we were offering to do that and said that she knew Manuel Luis would be extremely appreciative. I told her that we would bring the food to the school the next morning but I didn’t want him or anyone else to know that we were the ones bringing the food. She wasn’t sure why and kept trying to talk me out of that. I told her that God had burdened my heart for this family and that I felt as though He was making the need known to us and that we were to meet it. I wanted Manuel Luis to give the glory to the Lord for His provisions and not to make the mistake of thinking it was the Americans who were responsible.

I explained we were blessed to be a blessing. That she understood. She’s the wife of a pastor and she has heard it many times. I just think she was surprised that we didn’t want the recognition. I have learned over the years that the blessings stop when we try, so to speak, to steal God’s thunder. That’s the last thing we want or need to have happen here. We are dependent on the Lord’s provisions ourselves and we would love for everyone to know the joy we experience when we are unexpectedly surprised just at a crucial time by His blessings. We especially wanted Manuel Luis and the children to know that joy…to know that nothing escapes the eyes of the Lord, that He hears their cries and that He cares for His children. That’s food for the soul that trumps any food with which we may fill our bellies.

The next morning, when Freddy came to work, we asked him to go with us to the market and then to Los Cedros to help us with the food. It was really kind of funny when we got to the market. Although this is market is not one I feel very comfortable at, the particular “store” we were at is very open and so I tend to not feel quite so claustrophobic.

Freddy took my list from my hand and told me he would take care of ordering the food. I told him I could do it and that I wanted him to help Jim with loading the car when we got the food. He wouldn’t hear of it. He positioned me between he and Jim…I guess he thought I would be “safe” there. Poor Freddy doesn’t understand this curious ol’ gringa and it wasn’t long before I was standing right by his side, fully involved in the decision making of the quantity and quality of the rice being selected. I guess he decided this was not a battle worth fighting and so together, we ordered all the food on the list plus some other items which I felt would be helpful.

While there, we saw some American friends who were buying staples for an eight day trip up the Rio Coco. It is a day’s drive to the river, which is up by Honduras, and then a two day trip by boat to reach the villages where they would be ministering to the churches they’ve built relationships with in the past. I’m always in awe of these guys and would love to tag along some time…the main problem I see with that is they’re on a river in a very narrow, wobbly boat. Since I can’t swim a stroke, absolutely am terrified of the river snakes and crocodiles, I think it’s probably best that we’ve not been invited to be a part of this great adventure! We visited for just a few minutes but both of our groups were intent on our own transactions and so we each returned to monitoring the weighing of our purchases.

We left with 20# each of rice and beans, 15# of sugar, 6 liters of oil, 5 packets of salt, 3# of oatmeal, 5 cans of tuna, 2# of tortilla flour, a case of dry soup, a can of powdered milk, 6 rounds of detergent (for hand washing clothes)and a fair amount of potatoes, onions, carrots and bananas. The food filled a huge rice bag with the veggies and bananas packed separately.

When we arrived at the school, thankfully, no one was in the office except Pastora. We unloaded the groceries without being detected and then took Freddy on a quick tour of the school. Before we left, once again, Pastora asked if she could tell Manuel Luis where the food came from. She really felt that he should thank us. I tried again to explain the “whys” of our decision. Freddy helped me get that message across as I had told him earlier that we didn’t want the family to know who donated the food. He knows us well enough now that although he may not understand why we choose to do something a certain way, he honors our decisions. Being his employers helps with that, I’m sure. Pastora shrugged her shoulders and said it was as we wished. And so we left.

Honestly, the few times I thought about it that weekend, my thoughts were more on the health of those children. I was praying that the food would fill their tummies and that hope would fill their hearts.

I didn’t even think about it that following Tuesday when we first arrived at the school. After my first class, Pastora said she wanted to talk to us. She sat down and began a very lengthy story…much of which I didn’t understand but I did get enough of it to figure out that Manuel Luis was overcome with gratitude. Pastora said that Sunday morning, the whole family was in church…including the mother!

Evidently, she got word that the house was filled with food and she came home. She told Pastora that she was ashamed she had left. Pastora took the opportunity to stress that the children needed their mother and that they had been very sick. She told her that her place was at home with her children and not chasing after another life in Managua. Pastora said she “counseled” with her for a long time and told her American missionaries were taking better care of her children than she was. So much for stressing our wish for anonymity. I can only imagine how that whole conversation went. I truly hope that the parts I didn’t get told of a promise to walk alongside a troubled soul with the goal being a completed family honoring Jesus.

Pastora thanked us for being obedient to God because she said the mother would not have returned otherwise. I’m not so sure. I know God is bigger than our obedience and I know it is His will for this family to be united and bring glory to His Name.

My take on all this is that through YOUR generosity and YOUR obedience to God we were able to be part of His plan to minister to the physical needs of this family, especially these children. Hopefully, because of your gifts, this particular situation will enable the mother to hear God’s call for repentance and restoration over the community’s voice of condemnation. One is sweet while the other scalds. I have a two-fold reason for sharing this with you: first of all so that you know you are making a difference here and you are touching lives; secondly, I share this with you so that you will join us in praying healing and restoration for this family. I thank you for both and I know there are four children who would also thank you for the first and would be forever grateful for the second.