Today didn't go anything like I expected... which, I guess I should have expected. Such is life.

Today I had opted to take my "free day" of the week, trading off of my usual Wednesdays, to perhaps go to the pool in Jinotega or do something fun and celebratory. However, both our Social Worker and our Psychologist (otherwise known as our entire daytime staff) were not here today. Additionally, Joy was in Jinotega for a conference on human trafficking all morning. So, the idea of the free day flew right out the window.

However, I had the best (and only adequate) pizza I've had since coming down to Central America today, made by the skilled hands of our cook, Doña Martita. The way it works is that on one's birthday, they may request their favorite meal, which will be served for lunch. I asked for pizza, fried plantains (HEAVEN!), and Coke. Because pizza needs Coke. Everyone knows this.

So, Martita is amazing, and my mouth's already watering, because tomorrow she's making lasagna in celebration of Irma's birthday. Irma's turning 17 tomorrow. Now that I come to think of it, I really have no idea how any of these people ever came to try lasagna, much less have it as their favorite meal! I guess the gringo influence here has been pretty strong over the years, though.

A few quick updates on what's new here:

-Joy has returned! Last Monday evening, Joy returned from a three-month absence from her home and ministry for the last four years. She had been spending the last several months back in the States with her family, as her mom was very sick, and recently passed away after a tough battle with cancer. Please keep her in your prayers as she's returning to a very demanding and isolating job with a lot on her mind and a lot of emotions to work through with the passing of her mother.

-School's out! As of last Friday, the kids have completed their scholastic year, and are now home for two months of vacation... yikes! The pace has shifted significantly and my nice, quiet afternoons while the kids were in school are no more.

-We gained one! Olvis (Olbeese), one of the teenage boys who lives at our other home has recently been transferred back here. He's been down at Los Cedros for the past year, but had not been adjusting well down there, and so the decision was recently made to bring him back here, where the staff know him and are better-equipped to help him with his emotional issues, which had begun to resurface more and more since his move to Los Cedros.

-We also lost one. But in this case, it's not a bad thing, it's a very good thing for her! Ana, the 10-year-old adopted daughter of one of Globe International's missionaries (the woman who started this home), has been living here with us at Hogar Amiguitos, under the care of Joy, who's like an aunt to her. Her learning disabilities had caused her to struggle significantly in the American school system, so her mother made the decision to send her back to Nicaragua to see how she fared in the Nicaraguan school system, and also to help her to improve her Spanish literacy (Orally, she's fully bilingual. Literarily, she struggles in two languages.) Now that the school year's over, she gets to go back to the States to spend the holidays with her family.

- I am already looking forward into the Christmas season (I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-NOG!'s Eve, anyone?) and the month of January, and chief on my list of concerns is whether or not I'll be able to find a consistent supply of plaintains back home in Winnipeg (think: larger, less sweet bananas). Fried plantains with cream is a dish that I fell in love with several years back in Guatemala, but now that they've been a steady part of my diet for the past two months, my feelings have only grown stronger and more sure. It's the real thing; I know it.

These are some of the most recent developments here at our home.

Today I turned twenty-four. My champagne birthday. And of course, under contract to the ministry here, I'm definitely not cracking any champagne in celebration of the occasion (which feels like a shame, in a way). It is, however, the perfect opportunity to share one of my favorite songs with my readership, written by Mr. Jon Foreman of Switchfoot in his twenty-fourth year under the sun. I first heard this song on my last three-month Central American foray, played by my friend Andrew Stock in a small room for a small group of Canadians in Guatemala, when I was 18 years old. I still love it to death.

It's called twenty-four. Please sit back, pour yourself a glass of champagne (or sparkling grape juice, according to your conscience), and enjoy.

Twenty four oceans, twenty four skies
Twenty four failures in twenty four tries
Twenty four finds me in twenty-fourth place,
with twenty four drop outs at the end of the day.
Life is not what I thought it was twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing, "Spirit, take me up in arms with You."
And I'm not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing, "Spirit, take me up in arms with You."

There's twenty four reasons to admit that I'm wrong,
With all my excuses still twenty four strong.
You see I'm not copping out,
not copping out,
not copping out when You're raising the dead in me.
Oh, I am the second man - oh, I am the second man now.
Oh, I am the second man now.

And You're raising these twenty four voices with twenty four hearts.
All of my symphonies in twenty four parts.
But I want to be one today, centered and true.
I'm singing, "Spirit, take me up in arms with You" - You're raising the dead in me.

Oh, I am the second man - oh, I am the second man now.
Oh, I am the second man now, and You're raising the dead in me.

I want to see miracles; to see the world change.
I wrestled the angel for more than a name;
For more than a feeling; For more than a cause.
I'm singing, "Spirit take me up in arms with You" - And You're raising the dead in me.

Turn it up, close your eyes, and pray it.

The question at the heart of Peter's inquiry is really one of shrinking back. God has called us to extend grace as unconditionally as He does, to those as similarly unworthy of it as are we. Endlessly. Ceaselessly. Tirelessly. And without fail. And our question to God is, "When have we suffered enough?"

At the core of our dark hearts there exists a desire to self-justify; to master; to dominate. This is the chief of our sins against God. And while our redeemed self struggles to grant forgiveness, our unjustified nature forever tempts us with the sentiment that "you've taken enough."

We want so much to be let off the hook. To win for once; to be right for once. To have our pity party, blaming the other; to nobly tell our friends, "I put up with a lot, but this was the final straw," and receive forthwith their approval, sympathy, and corresponding pats on the back.

There is no room for this in Love. And lucky for us, because if anyone has the right to say "I've taken more than I deserve," it would be our Perfect and Crucified Lord. However, He tirelessly holds out the forgiveness of the cross, suffering the humiliation of our scorn, distain, and disregard, (and we His saints), all for the joy set before Him which He receives in those brief moments that we remember ourselves and our Father, our Lord, and our rightful source of Justice.

All of our flesh demands to be "let off the hook." We can't stand humiliation, embarassment, and to be subject to disrespect at the hands of a fellow human being. We're confident that we're better than that. Something deep inside of us insists we be treated better than that.

Yet there remains Christ's uncompromising call for complete, humiliating, tireless forgiveness. And we want so badly to be let off the hook of it, if only for a moment, and experience the soothing relief of vindication.

The hook is our life. It is our saving grace. Vindication exists only for the sad souls that haven't the strength to push on, fight through for their salvation. It is not, of course, a matter of earning it. It is a matter of holding it forth as the only truth of our lives, affirming our conviction of and commitment to the knowledge that "You, Lord, are better; are sweeter."

It seems to me that the last several entries have been rather heavy, so this one ought to lighten things up, I hope!

I wanted to share with you some of the tools I've been creating to teach the children of Hogar Amiguitos English. So far we've learned the days of the week, the months of the year, the English Alphabet, and the 7 basic English subjects.

One of the things I've been emphasizing the most with the kids is proper English pronunciation. Oh, and spelling using the English Alphabet. I thought I'd share with you guys the tools I've been developing to help the kids learn proper English pronunciation.

I'm very careful in class to emphasize over and over again that the pronunciation hints I give the kids should NEVER be used as written English, as it looks basically like gibberish. However, when the kids read my gibberish in Spanish pronunciation, it comes out as close to perfect English as we can get it.

Here are some examples, copied from my blackboard:

Days of the Week
days= dias
week= semana

Español Ingles Pronunciacion
Lunes - Monday - Mandey
Martes - Tuesday - Tusdey
Miercoles - Wednesday - Wensdey
Jueves - Thursday - Thersdey (they have to work on the TH sound)
Viernes - Friday - Fraydey
Sabado - Saturday - Saderdey
Domingo - Sunday - Sandey

Here's the English Alphabet with Spanish Pronunciation. Please note that while the English alphabet has 26 letters, the Spanish alphabet has 27-29, as the letter "ñ" (pronounced "enyay") is its own letter and the letters ch together ("chay") and ll ("doblay-ELLay"; it makes a "y" sound, like in tortilla) are both their own letters, while they're not always counted in all renditions of the Spanish alphabet.

English Alphabet
alphabet=alfabeto

A- ei
B -bi
C- si
D- di
E- I
F- ef
G- yí
H- eitch
I -hay
J - yeí (siempre duro, fuerte, como Jeyson, nunca como José) (always hard, strong, like Jeyson, never like José)
K- que
L- Él
M- em
N- en
O- o
P- pi
Q - qiu
R- ar
S- es
T -ti
U- yiu (suave, no duro) (soft, not hard or it sounds like "jew")
V- vi
W- dábel-yiu (suave, no duro) (again, or it sounds like "double-Jew)
X- ex
Y- wai
Z- zi (como el ruido de una abeja) (like the sound a bee makes)


Right now, I'm teaching the kids the English subjects - for those a little lost, that's I, You, He, She, We, They, and It. The interesting thing though is that while every proper English sentence includes a subject, in Spanish they often omit the subject since their verbs are conjugated according to subject, so the latinos know what subject is being used by the verb form. Therefore, the actual subject is often omitted from the sentence.

For example, "Yo quiero ir al baño" (I want to go to the bathroom) could be just as easily said "Quiero ir al baño" (with the subject "yo" or "I" removed).

Anyways, here are the English subjects as I've been teaching them to my kids... just reverse them if you want to learn the Spanish subjects! I've formatted them in two different ways and the kids have copied both so they reference whichever is easiest for them.

English Subjects
subjects= subjetos

It seems it all just keeps coming... If I let a day go by, a week's worth has happened.

On Sunday afternoon, a child showed up on our doorstep, accompanied by two Nicaraguan woman and an American missionary named Sue. His name is Estevan. He had been living here a few weeks before I arrived, but had tried to run away three or more times before being removed and relocated.

He had been back with his family. His family, Sue was connected to because she had found them living in the dump, had compassion on them, and done everything in her power to help this family who were falling through the gaps. She bought them a house. She had outfitted the house, bought them clothing, school supplies, school uniforms, and set the mother up with everything she needed to make and sell tortillas for a living.

They recently abandoned the house, leaving everything behind. No one knows where they are. Estevan has been living on the streets. Sue had found him, and he told her he wanted to come back here. She came with him to ask if we couldn't extend compassion on him as well and give him one more chance.

Unfortunately, we can't. It doesn't work like that. The ministry of families here in Nicaragua, Mi Familia, are the only ones who can place a child with us. They case-manage all of the children here in our home. They need to ask Mi Familia to take him in, and they may or may not decide to place him here with us. Joy also has a voice in the process, deciding whether or not she will take him back in here given his history of throwing away the opportunities we've given him.

However, there are no guarantees. The political situation here in Nicaragua is very unfortunate for Estevan right now. The government is in the midst of a huge push to take all children out of homes such as ours and place them with their families, whatever families they have, or in a Nicaraguan home. They want to be able to present themselves to the rest of the world as being a country without orphans, without orphanages. Think about it. We're Canada. We don't have orphans, do we? The United States? No orphans. Yes, we have foster care, and no, it's not perfect, but we don't have orphans.

We do, however, have a carefully managed, well-designed care-system for children. With several cracks for kids to fall through. We have a beaurocracy that helps, and hurts. It's no dream, but it is well thought-out at least, while far from flawless.

The first lady of Nicaragua has made it her personal mandate to close every orphanage in the country, desiring to change the face of child-care in Nicaragua. And she certainly will. She has demanded that the employees of Mi Familia stop receiving new children who come to them into the system into centres such as ours, and that they instead be placed with family. Meanwhile the other kids already in the system (such as the 17 we have here) should be replaced with family members as soon as can be arranged.

It is no small concern the alarming rate at which this is all taking place. The timeline is tight, and it doesn't seem humanly possible that this new system can be designed and executed with all of the necessary safeguards to keep kids from ending up back in the exact same situation that put them in the system in the first place. Thinking of our 17 kids here, very few of them have appropriate relatives that they can go to live with - if they did, they would be there, and not here. As centres are being shut down rapidly in Nicaragua, the question has to asked - where are the children going? If these hordes of suitable homes existed, they would already have been in use, as that's always been the primary wish of Mi Familia to my knowledge, to place children with family wherever possible.

All this adds up to very bad timing for Estevan. He already has a case file with Mi Familia, so they will certainly do something for him. But now is not the time for anyone to be placed in a centre (orphanage) such as ours. Recently, most or all of Mi Familia's employees were fired for failing to stop admitting new children into the Nicaraguan orphanages - the first lady is quite serious about meeting her goal. This organizational upheaval resulted in serious interruptions to the process here, as you can imagine, as well as completely halting all adoptions currently underway in the country until all the vacant positions could be re-hired. (We have two such adoption cases currently underway in our home, and both of them are time-sensitive).

In the meantime, the only thing for Estevan and his rescuers to do is talk to Mi Familia, and wait. They came back today, and we explained once again to them that there was nothing we could do for him until Mi Familia first, and Joy second, made their decisions, and they laid on a thick guilt-trip, assuring us that they know that he has changed, for real this time, that he only needs one more chance, deserves one more chance, before they, too, will be satisfied to leave him to the consequences of his choices and the hard luck of his life, and couldn't we please just take him in on a trial basis, for a week or so? Though we explained again and again that we a) couldn't take in anyone with Mi Familia sending them to us, and b) would not take in a new child without Joy's knowledge and consent, the guilt trip continued. They just hated to see him suffer for the faults of his parents. They had their own children too, and they are so proud of how they turned out, and they just know that this child's problems are partly given to him by his parents' poor choices. (Estevan has a low IQ and what might be the effects of fetal alcohol). And couldn't we just take him in, only on a trial basis? We're both going out of town and there's nowhere for him to go!

Of course, our answer remained the same.

While my first encounter with Estevan was taking place on Sunday, I was also meeting Adán's family for the first time. It was pure pleasure to meet Adán's mom, Ruth, and his two little sisters, Dominga and Daisy, and to know that they were on the brink of some incredible life-altering opportunities. Adán was very sweet with his mother, and his two sisters warmed up more and more to us during their visit, smiling widely by the time they left us. I was glad to have met them.

At the same time, Bobby, the twenty-something American guy who's been here for the last two months, was departing on Sunday. Due to bad communication, I hadn't been aware of his plans to leave on Sunday, taking Don Profilio, the bus-driver with him, and hadn't arranged for anyone else to work on Sunday, as Ana (whose turn it was to work Sunday) would technically be working but would be occupied with taking Adán's family to Managua, and the other missionaries of Children Of Destiny Nicaragua didn't want me to be here by myself with 17 kids. After some last-minute scrambling, Masiel agreed to come in on her only day off of the week, and Bobby was able to depart on Sunday, though not exactly as originally planned. And given the type of day Sunday turned out to be, it was a very good thing Masiel was here.

Meanwhile, Nora's been very, very ill. She spent most of the last two weeks home from school, and half of that in the hospital in Managua. Since coming back, she's been throwing up every day (since Saturday). Nora's one of the muchachas, a fifteen-year-old girl who is very closely connected to my good friends from Seattle, Karel and Myra, who live in Managua now and are very much hoping that her adoption will be finalized soon.

Nora's now on a broth-and-gatorade-only diet, as we're trying to get her to keep food down and replenish her body's water and electrolites. After throwing up in the morning, she has made it through the rest of the day so far without puking, so she tried eating some gallopinto (Nicaragua's classic dish of rice and beans), and we'll wait and see if she keeps it down. Poor, poor girl. She can't afford to get any more skinny.

Meanwhile, Jeyson (the thirteen-year-old boy here who, if he weren't black, could easily be mistaken for my cousin Connor by disposition - and those of you who know what that means should probably pray) had a fever over 40 degrees today, the shakes and the aches. By the afternoon (around the time of Estevan's second arrival) we were quite concerned and had decided to take him in to the hospital, no small feat with only two adults to share around and one school bus for transportation. Meanwhile Irma (16) HAD to have new school shoes, as hers were completely worn through, and it couldn't wait a day. Which may have been true, but wasn't what I wanted to deal with at that moment, so I may have been a little ungracious with Irma. Meanwhile, Jeyson had all the symptoms of Dengae fever, a mosquito-borne illness that is potentially deadly.

The afternoon was a gong show of Ana taking Jeyson to the hospital, Masiel and I taking Irma to buy new shoes, and Don Profilio, the bus-driver and care-taker, collecting the kids after school. Masiel was off work at this time, so I headed home with the kids, and kept calling back to Ana to find out how Jeyson was, and whether or not we would need to pull another person out of thin air to spend the night with him in the hospital, as Ana would be off work at 7PM, and has her own family at home.

They ran tests for H1N1, gave Jeyson some medicine for his fever, which made a huge difference, and sent him home with some medicine and an appointment for more tests in the morning.

Meanwhile, Xochilt had bites all over her body, and needed to be bathed in a special tea to stop the itching, Francis (16) needed to find a gift for her boyfriend for their one-year anniversary tomorrow, and I had been promising to teach José how to play his new card game, "There's A Moose In The House", ever since his birthday - so tonight was the night. There are a smattering of other children complaining of colds, runny noses, and sore throats as well, but all these are minor cases.

Meanwhile, I eventually got fed up over the levels of fighting and bickering taking place among thirteen kids with kites. Despite my pre-emptive attempts to LABEL EVERYTHING! and keep them all safely in the office to avoid destruction, not a day has gone by without hearing "he took this!," or "she stole mine!", or, "I traded my kite for a Jet Li movie and now I want it back!" So last night I had every person present to me their complete kite, with both the kite and the handle displaying their own name, as it had been given to them after being labeled. Anyone who couldn't immediately produce their own complete possession recieved a "check", which is our main disciplinary tool here... two checks in a day is an hour's time out at night in the cancha, and three checks in a day means an extra hour of chores on Saturday. We eventually got everyone's own possession back in his or her own hands, and I'm hoping that the fighting over the kites will die down now that the kids know I'm on it.

Today I rode home with Xochilt beside me on the bus, listening to a sweet little nine-year-old girl make up an endless sing-song of thoughts and lyrics, and if you were once a nine-year-old girl, you might remember having done the same (don't deny it). Megan was known for sitting on our fence at home and singing to the horses. I did my singing while cutting the grass on the riding lawn-mower, which somehow was my confidence-boosting equivalent of singing in the shower. It was a cute moment, and it brought me fond memories of what it's like to be a nine-year-old with a sing-song mind - a sweet moment in the midst of a hectic life.

I've been meaning to write about the boys lately, but things have always come up. However, now seems like a very good time to tell you about Adán.

Well, we lost one.

As of yesterday, the ward population of Hogar Amiguitos has gone from 18 to 17. An 18-year-old girl named Neris (pronounced Nery, she's one of the muchachas, or teenage girls) decided that she was done with the place. Being that she's 18 years old and no longer a legal ward of the state, there was nothing we could do.

Neris is a tough girl with a very hard exterior. She's actually very pretty when she smiles, but she usually wears an uninviting scowl and speaks in an off-putting snarl - at least, that's how she is here. She has a boyfriend, with whom I assume she's much more amable.

Although Neris was no longer our responsibility as of the day of her 18th birthday this past May, the staff here at Hogar Amiguitos, and especially Joy, have been urging her to stay here, where she is well-fed, well cared-for, has a tutor to assist her with homework every day and is bussed to and from school each day, until her completion of grade six. High school educations are not the universal standard in Nicaragua that they are back home, but finishing primary school, or grade 6, is a significant milestone for those who reach it.

Neris was to graduate from grade 6 in about 15 days' time. It seems that she won't be, however, as she has informed her teachers that she refuses to write her final exams.

Neris has not kept it a secret that she has had no interest in life at Hogar Amiguitos, showing up late to study time, doing her weekly chores poorly and with obvious displeasure, and fighting with the younger kids where most of the teenagers are helping to care for them. What does interest Neris, apparently, is her boyfriend. She's expecting that they'll get married soon, although he's also in school, similarly quite far behind, and hasn't expressed anything similar to a proposal. She often leaves to visit her mother (who lives very near here), but we usually see her out walking with her boyfriend when she's supposedly with her mom.

It's been a difficult balance with Neris, because technically, as an adult, she legally has the right to choose what she wants to do or not do, but at the same time, if she's going to live here, she needs to live according to our rules. Last weekend, Neris wanted to spend the night at her mom's, but we have a rule that none of the kids are allowed to spend the night away from the orphanage, a rule for which we make no exceptions. This rule, by the way, was developed as a response to a situation that once occurred where one of the girls was nearly raped while staying over at a friend's house, if it sounds a bit extreme. When our final answer was no, Neris wasn't very happy. Three days later, she announced that she was leaving, going back to live with her mom. And with that, she packed and left.

So Neris is back living with her mom in Jinotega. I have no idea if she'll continue to attend school. I have no idea if she'll end up back here or not. There's always the chance that she will come back, that is if she doesn't end up pregnant first. I'll admit that I have very little experience with this type of teenage girl - she has no interest in any of the things we are offering her to better her life. I think she believes she'll find work harvesting coffee in the fields. She may and she may not, but she's closing a lot of doors right now in her choice to give up her education.

Since I came, the staff have made clear to me that with Neris, we're just trying to get her to hold on for a month more, to finish grade 6, and to not get pregant. Now, all of these things are no longer within our circle of influence. The only thing left that we can do for Neris now is to pray.

If you think of her, please pray for Neris. The choices she will make over the next few weeks will likely play a large part in determining the course of her adult life.

Labels: Nicaragua, teenagers