Private School

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After the first week at a specially selected private school, I could see a reluctance in the girls when time came to go to class. Something had them stirred up, and I waited for a storm cloud to burst. The following week, Leti* came in with red eyes and a pout. We needed to have a visit.

“Leti, sit here, and tell me why you are upset.”

Slow at getting started, Leti explained, “I don’t want to go back to school. The kids make fun of me because I’m in the baby class.”

Leti’s friend joined the conversation and added, “Yeah, the kids make fun of all of us because we live in an orphanage. The teachers don’t do anything to stop it. Nobody wants to be our friend.”

Oh my! The school year could go painfully on forever if something didn’t change. I prayed for the Lord’s intervention.

Joanne and I had checked out this well-known private school. The director impressed us with the concern she showed for the girls and her promises to help them in any way possible. Now we needed another visit with her to find a solution and ease the agony the girls felt. The director showed her compassion for the children and said she would handle the situation.

I sighed deeply, not realizing how angry I felt about the degrading words aimed at my girls. Thank you, Lord, for the love you have for these children. We don’t know what the director told the other teachers or students after our meeting, but from the chitchat of the girls, it appeared life at school had improved. All except for Leti.

In Guatemala, a student needs a certificate to show the completion of a grade before she is allowed to go into the next grade. This law worked against some of the girls in the Home because several of them had never attended school. Because of the law, twelve-year-old Leti sat in humiliation with the first graders. This bothered us until one day Joanne said she had a solution.

Before coming to Guatemala as a missionary, Joanne and her husband started a private school in Alaska. “How hard can it be to start our school here? I have contacts through Associated Christian Schools International and with a knowledgeable attorney. We can have a place for these kids to get an education without the hassles they now face.”

IMG_1648Bursting with the news, we told the girls about our plans, hoping it would ease their misery for the rest of the school year. Joanne went into action and found a compassionate couple to head up the school. (This faithful couple continues to serve as directors today.) They drew the girls to them with magnetic force. Donors from the States stepped forward to help with the expenses. Papers went to the authorities, and when approved, we sought a place for Liberty Christian School.

We rented a little house, and the girls pitched in with full energy to make it ready for their school. I saw a blend of pride, excitement, and hope as they applied paint to the filthy walls. Posters, pictures, and other wall decorations brought out a charm that tickled me as a IMG_0335former teacher. Then the big day came.

Dressed in cranberry-red plaid uniforms and full of giggles, the girls stepped into a new beginning in their educational program. Liberty Christian School was their school, and the desire for academic success rose in this private school. Leti didn’t come home with a smile on her face every day, but she did look forward to sitting with the other girls while doing her grade-appropriate work.

*Name has been changed.

Medical History

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Dear Reader,

The posts I have on my blog are part to the memoir that I’m writing. The intention is to cover a twelve-year span of life at Shadow of HIs Wings. I’m going to move out of that time-frame and tell you what is going on in my life today, and why you will not be reading a memoir post.

On July 11 I flew to my daughter Stacie’s home in Missouri with plans to drive with her family to Tennessee and meet up with my other children and grandchildren. It was our first family reunion in five years, and I could hardly wait to see those grandchildren.

The night before the Tennessee trip, I felt chills/fever kicking in. I went to bed and had the most horrible night ever. When my daughter woke me up in the morning, I told her they would need to go without me. Like that was going to happen with Stacie around. Because the state of my health, she took me directly to the ER at Cox Hospital. With a temp of over 103, and other vitals out of the normal range, they did test after test and put lots of goodies in the IV. They let me go home with an open invitation for admission if I regressed. No way! I did find out that Larry and Megan went on to Tennessee, and Stacie chose to stay and doctor me. By Tuesday, I needed help, so back to the hospital we went.

This is where I will cut the story short. The tests showed that I had some sort of tropical virus. The doctor on my case had experience with some of these in his ministry to Jamaica. When he learned that I lived in an area where there were lots of Dengue and Chicungunya cases, he determined I would stay in the hospital, because I could possibly be a carrier of a virus that would affect others. No complaints from me. The state of sickness that took me under soon became the worst I’d ever experienced in my entire life. My stay included days and nights of blood withdrawals for tests, antibiotic upon antibiotic (I also had a UTI), and medication by the handfull.

Most of you know my breathing history, and I entered the hospital with struggles in that area. The oxygen level would drop down while I lay there. Part of the problem was that I developed pneumonia and the extra fluid caused problems. Time to add a bit of excitement in my life—a diuretic and a stool softener. I made hourly trips to the bathroom, which were stressful, but a system developed, and Stacie kept busy.

The doctor decided I had Dengue fever because of the issues he saw in my blood. I think he felt relieved that I didn’t contract this in the US, and by the time they let me go from the hospital, I wouldn’t be a threat. They waited on those test results, but he said, “By the time we know what virus you have, you’ll be well, and it’s not going to make any difference in our treatments.”

My faithful daughter stayed with me every day from early morning to evening. I’ll probably never know why this chapter had to be in my life book, but I do know that God had me covered the whole time. I was in the best place for such medical care. The doctor had his jungle experiences to help evaluate the situation rather than the medical book insights only.

Then I took the step and asked when I could go home, and the answer came clearly: when I felt I could function on my own. I put in my request, and Stacie brought me home Wednesday. The breathing is much better, and I feel my lungs are stronger.

Thanks to the many of you who have prayed for me. That prayer covering is important. At my age and medical history, the healing process takes longer, but I’m on the path and with the grace of God, I will make the goal. Meanwhile, I’m in the comforts of Stacie’s home with plans to return to Guatemala in a couple of weeks.

Cause of Rebellion

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Every story that I hear from the children who come to Shadow stirs the emotions like a hot poker in a bed of coals, but there are some that rip the heart apart. Sadi’s* story did a number on mine when she shared about her painful past. I listened to her story as a counselor, asking the Lord for His words and wisdom to help this girl find some semblance of healing. There had to be an underlying cause of rebellion we saw in her.

Sadi cooperated at times, making me feel hopeful for her healing. Then she bounced back to a state of lies, anger, and a refusal to comply. She’d lived with us for several years, and all of these issues had been dealt with in the past. However, they consistently popped up, letting us know that the wounds continued to ooze. We hoped that she would come to a place of peace with her past through the grace of the Lord.

“Sadi, I want you to tell me everything you remember before you came to Shadow. Who did you live with? What good and bad memories do you have? How did you feel emotionally? Just start anywhere.”

We had followed this line of questioning before because any tidbit of information could be the key to healing her state of emotions.

She thought for several moments. “My mother said she tried to abort me because she didn’t want me. After my birth, she gave me to my father. I hated her. My dad took care of me, and we lived together for seven years.”

“Did you like living with your father, or did he abuse you?” I asked.

“I loved my father,” she replied as a sob took over her voice, “but someone killed him.”

Sadness filled me as I waited for her to get control and continue with her story.

“He sat on the porch, and somebody shot him. I ran out and lay my body against him not knowing what to do. Others came to help, but I don’t remember much after that. I only knew that my dad would never be with me again. Someone took me to my mom’s home, but she still didn’t want me. One day, my step-dad took me for a ride, and we ended up at the children’s court. He told the secretary that he didn’t want another mouth to feed and left me there.”

By this time, it took everything in me to hold myself together while I wrapped my arms around this emotionally distraught child. Lord, only you can mend this shattered heart. Help her to trust us.

I reflected on the disrespect shown by Sadi to the other females in authority at Shadow. She made faces behind their backs and mimicked their words. Before hearing Sadi’s story, I couldn’t understand her contempt, because the women at Shadow showed her love and compassion, yet she lashed out at them. From time to time, she aimed those emotions at me. I now understood that the root of the rebellion grew from a loveless relationship with her mother. Sadi would zero in on the attention of the male population, giving them trust and cooperation, but the female population didn’t have a chance.

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When Sadi turned nineteen, she left the orphanage without any prior word to those in authority. She gave up her university training and moved in with the man she planned to marry. I knew Sadi would need more counseling, but committed her into the hands of the Lord and made myself available to be mama when she wanted to talk. God is the Healer, and my prayers continued for the restoration of her shattered soul. We found the cause of rebellion but, like many children who come through Shadow of His Wings Orphanage we only saw a certain degree of healing. Lord may the rest come through You in Your time as she takes each step with You.

*Name has been changed.

Mission Team

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Have you ever thought what it would be like to be on a mission team to a developing country? Listen to Dr. Jim’s video as he shares his perspective of this life changing event. Jim comes to Shadow every year and even now I can hear the kids chanting, “Yim, Yim, Yim!” (The J is silent in Spanish.)

Shadow of His Wings offers mission team opportunities for any of you who may be interested. This could open the door to a long term ministry for those of you who want to be more involved in seeing lives changed. You can make a difference. Check out Shadow’s website at www.shadowofhiswingsorphanage.org