Children

Today was the second-to-last chapel for my students, and since they are going to middle school next year, it was one of their last chapels as elementary students. We watched a video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Df7gJ0NMu10) that shows the glorification of money and power that the world has to offer, and the chorus of the song talks about the emptiness those things bring. The video is a song to a Reggaeton beat, and it shows a young boy who idolizes a musical artist duo, and demonstrates how he tries to imitate what their image promotes. (Keep in mind, the video is in Spanish and is designed to capture the attention of young adults....they can relate to it.)

So at the end of chapel, one of the teachers prayed for the kids. He prayed for their innocence, that they wouldn't fall victim to peer pressure, that they would be strong and confident enough in Jesus and in themselves that they wouldn't seek love in the approval of others. My eyes actually filled with tears as I looked at their round, sweet faces. I see such goodness in them, even in the trouble-makers, and as I watched their bowed heads and tightly closed eyes, I began to feel like I'm about to send my sheep to the wolves. They have no idea what is waiting for them in middle school, and I know some of them will fall victim to the slaughter. The worse part is that I can see foreshadowing of it already: one of my girls tells me she watches this show called "Ninas Malas" ("Bad Girls"), and she sees herself trying to emulate the characters on the show. It is for a lack of love, this deep need for love and acceptance and approval, that these kids will start to make big life choices. I can tell them until I'm blue in the face, "It doesn't matter what other people think," but they need to realize that, really own that knowledge, on their own. I just hope that already know how much they are loved.

Pink and Black

Last Friday, I brought my colored string to street soccer to make bracelets. By now I've made dozens and dozens of box bracelets, and a couple of the guys and girls still wear the very first ones I made for them months ago. Usually the ones asking for bracelets with specific colors will sit with me and watch while I weave the five strings between my fingers, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes making light conversation.

This last Friday, Vanessa (age 13) and Kimberly (age 14) sat with me. Vanessa, who is in "fifth/sixth grade," was excited to share some of the English phrases she knows. As I was digging through my bag to show her the color options, she asked me my favorite color.

"Amarillo," I said.

"Yellow," she translated with a smile.

"What is your favorite color?" I asked her slowly.

"Pink and black."

Pink and black. How appropriate is that? I'm telling you, I couldn't invent this stuff if I tried.

This young girl who wants to do arts and crafts with me, who wants to help me organize my colored strings and untangle knots, this girl who bites her fingernails, who wants to show me what she's learned in school and still talks about favorites...

...This girl who lives in an unsafe neighborhood, who lives in a community of rough, aggressive people addicted to pain-numbing drugs and who has seen and experienced things I cannot begin to imagine ...

...her favorite colors are pink and black.

Plant Ballads

The assignment was to a ballad about the life of a plant, describing threats to the plant's life and how it has adapted to defend itself. I hope you enjoy the results as much as I did... :)

[A rap]
"Poor poor sour flower
she needs a hood
and some food.

Dude winters coming.
You should hide for some warming in the night
but the sour flour
didn't know the hour
of the winter's power.

So the sour flower got some food
and stood in front of a tree she saw a hood
in top of the tree and the tree give it to her." ~D.

"Flowers attract bees with their colorful skin,
some defend themself with poisonous liquid,
on them stems,
some have spine to bit you up,
flowers are alive but they have different ways to be protect." ~K.

"It's hard to live in the desert,
I try with a lot of effort,
I'm not going to be insincere,
It's too hot in here,

But finally we got to adapt,
And we all claped,
That if we had light colors we would feel less heat,
And I don't want a problem like that to repeat." ~E.

"This plant love hugs,
but she hate slugs
she eat's bugs
she live's in the mud
but she was taken in
a big truck so
now they have the
poor little plant and
she was turned
into a drug." ~C.

[This confused student wrote a poem for his mom:]
"I love you with a lot of hugs,
but I love my slugs just like you
you are like birds singing on a tree
like gold birds that I can see

I have trucks of different kinds
and I bought drugs when I'm sad.
I can't stop of thought of you
when I go soon to the school" ~D.

"I am a little plant,
who likes to grow up
with water and sun,
more beautiful I become.

I need to survive
from animals and bugs,
from the sky to underground,
I wish I could talk.

But Jesus has giving me strength,
believe in him if you need help,
nature is my protection,
with sunlight and rain." ~G.

...I LOVE my kids.

A New Season...

Two years ago, I was called to teach in Honduras. My time here has been both eye-opening and heartbreaking. I’ve been asked many times if I love living in Honduras. The truth is that though I am living amidst great pain and poverty, I am also continually driven to my knees witnessing redemption at work here. I am grateful for the brokenness I face because it keeps my heart soft.

Living here, I have become very involved with a ministry called the Micah Project. The Micah Project has two group homes for boys and an outreach to the street children of Tegucigalpa. The boys in the group homes, all of whom suffered painful childhoods on the streets or in very poor homes, are now receiving discipleship training, formal education, and opportunities to serve others who are in need.

The boys have taught me a lot, both about the world and about myself. I sincerely count them as a part of my family, as both brothers and sons. Knowing them has awakened in me a deeper part of myself, a fiercely protective side that flares heatedly to think on the violence they have experienced in their young lives. The extreme poverty and brokenness of families here leads to abandonment, physical and sexual abuse, expulsion from the home, alcohol and drug addictions, and gang involvement. By the merciful hand of God, the Micah Project offers hope to young boys living in the streets. But what about the girls?

Statistically speaking, in Honduras one in three girls will be a victim of sexual abuse before she reaches the age of twelve. Child sexual abuse is more than a nightmare, it is the sickening day-to-day reality in many families here. Some families prostitute out their daughters and nieces to men in the city to create an income, often to feed the addictive habits of the adults. Ultimately, poverty and corruption leave the police and government ineffective. Many older girls run away to the streets to escape the sexual abuse at home, but the street is not much of a refuge.

One evening in late November, a friend and I were discussing what a “Micah House for girls” would look like. Together we dreamed excitedly and without reservation, and within the week I mentioned the idea to the director of the Micah Project. He smiled and handed me the name and email address of a woman, Carol, who not only shared our dream but also had already started to create it: a group home for abused young women.

I met with Carol to discover she and her husband, Terry, had already sweated through the legal red tape of court systems, orphanages, and finances of purchasing a house. What she was in need of, she told me, were counselors-- women willing to commit their time to invest in relationship with the girls, to be ready to listen when they want to share, to offer help with homework, and to teach self-discipline and appropriate social skills. I am honored to say that after much prayer I am convinced that this is where the Lord wants me. I have committed to spending the next two years growing with these girls, learning from them and affirming them of their immeasurable worth.

It has been a huge blessing to serve at my school these last two years; it has been an ideal transitional period between college and life afterwards. The school has taken care of me financially and provided me with a group of new teachers my age to live in community with. But now the Lord is challenging me to fully trust Him for everything. If I was not entirely confident that this is what the Lord is asking of me, I would not be taking this step of faith. But I know He has created me with specific gifts and talents, and I was made to love these girls.

There are two great areas of need: prayer, and financial support. Prayer: The girls and young women of Honduras are in dire need of prayer. Casa de Ester is offering hope and light to these girls in the darkest of situations. Please pray that the Lord would be giving them strength and preparing the hearts of those who will become a part of Casa de Ester. That includes accepting discipline, rules, and responsibilities for the first time and also changing certain unhealthy behaviors. Pray also for those of us preparing to work with the girls, that the Lord would give us unconditional, long-suffering love for them. Pray for strength in the staff and unity within the family of girls. Financial support: I am in need of both monthly donations (for rent, gas, food) and one-time gift contributions (to renew my Honduran residency, to secure a means of transportation, etc.) to support my living here for the next two years. If you would like to help out in either of these ways, your tax- deductible checks can be made out and sent to

World Outreach Ministries
P.O. Box B
Marietta, GA 30061
(designate for Sage Johnson, Fund Code #104)

or the fastest way is to make an Online Donation via  www.WorldOutreach.org.  Go to "Donate" and select my name from the list.  The system can process USA & International cards.  You can also set up automatic Monthly gifts with your credit card if you choose the "Monthly" option.

If you are interested in learning more about Casa de Ester and the economical crisis in Honduras, please check out the website at http://www.arrow.org/church/internationaloperationshonduras/Casa-de-Ester.html. Thank you so much for letting me share this with you and for supporting these girls however you feel led.

Muchisimas gracias, y Dios les bendiga. (Thank you very much, and God bless you.)

Disappear

Friday night after street soccer and a brief stop by the Micah house, a few friends and I take a ride in the back of a friend's truck through El Centro (downtown Tegucigalpa). The truck is unusually slow-moving because of heavy traffic, and a man approaches us in the truck. He starts talking to us in accented but fluent English, asking us loudly what were are doing in his country. He doesn't wait for an answer. He tells us to leave. He tells us he hates us, that Hondurans hate us. He tells us that we don't want him in our country, and he doesn't want us in his. (Maybe he had been deported...? Or had heard about Arizona's new immigration law...) He curses us out vehemently in extremely strong language. All the while he is walking alongside the truck with us, his loud, angry voice is raised just behind me and is drawing stares from the crowded sidewalks. I start to worry he is going to spit on us.

He starts chanting "Disappear! Disappear!" and then "Desaparezcan!" My heart feels heavy in my chest, and I start wondering if this is more of a spiritual attack than just a verbal one. I begin to pray: "Lord Jesus, please shut his mouth--"

Immediately the man stops talking and walks away.


(True story. 2/10/2011)

Our European Adventure

Hi guys!!!

Sorry I went AWOL for the summer, I've been teaching English Camps in Italy. And now that I'm here, I'm not sure exactly how to summarize the experience. I'll try to keep it brief:

My dear friend of 10 years, Ari, and I went to England for a few days before our week of orientation. While we were there we went to the British Museum and saw the Rosetta Stone, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and Greek statures. It was a good experience, but I'm not that into art objects and artifacts. My favorite by FAR was the National Gallery. There we explored the paintings of Van Gogh, Monet, Turner, Degas, Rembrandt, Seurat, and many, many others. (Ari and I had an art history class together in college and she majored in it, so I couldn't possibly have had better company!)

Orientation in San Remo (about a half our from the French boarder) was a lot of fun, meeting and playing camp games and activities with English speakers from England, Scotland, Australia, and New Zealand. It's amazing how we all speak the same language but how much we still have to translate what we are saying to each other. Slang, vocabulary, accents, and articulation all became huge topics of discussion. We learned that as US Americans, many of us turn our "t"s into "d"s...think about it: do you say "pretty" and "beautiful" or "pridy" and "beaudiful"? To give you an idea about vocab, in British English a "biscuit" is a "cookie" in American English, British "dummy" = American "pacifier", and British "pants" = American "underwear" (important difference, apparently). We learned songs and games and activities in a group of 150 college-aged kids. I know what you're thinking, and yes, it was awesome. :o)

After orientation, we spent one week each in Marcianise (Naples), Montecastello (Tuscany), and Pisa. We were then put on "hold" in Baiardo, which is a stone village in the mountains of San Remo where counselors are welcome to stay while waiting for more work to open up. (With hundreds of counselors in dozens of camps throughout Italy, everyone gets put in reserve sometime or another.) While staying in Baiardo, a group of us took trips out to see Monaco and Milan. Both very beautiful and incomprehensibly wealthy.

Next we were placed in a two-week camp near the Swiss boarder, and I absolutely fell in love with my family there. All of my homestays were incredible, but I think because I spent twice as long with this family and my "parents" were so young (31), I got very close to them. They also reminded me a lot of my family in upstate New York. I met all of their sisters, brothers, in-laws, parents' parents, and they own a restaurant right by the lake...it really felt like a little Trumansburg. Only you could see the Swiss Alps. :o) It was especially hard to say goodbye to them.

After that camp, Ari and I traveled to Milan, Venice, Florence, Cinque Terra, Nice (France), and then flew home from England. 22 hours after landing in SFO, I was back again to fly back to Honduras. There is soo much more I'd love to tell you about, like all the great conversations we had about faith and Jesus with coworkers and roommates in hostels, about how in Venice we wore Carnevale masks and ran through the streets at night pretending to be superheros, about the Uffizi and trying to go boho in Florence, about the INCREDIBLE pesto and seascapes in Cinque Terra, about hilarious Aussie roommates, about sleeping on row of metal chairs in Heathrow with armrests pressing in from all angles...but neither you nor I have the time for all that. And I still have to upload pictures.

So much for keeping in brief. Haha.

Thanks for reading! Ciao for now. :o)

An Abundance of Hope

The two boys who left Micah to return to the streets are both sincerely seeking help to be freed from their addictions: one is spending the weekend sobering up at his dad's house before returning to the Micah house, and the other is considering a drug rehabilitation program.

Just last Friday I was sitting on the ground with Marvincito's dirty head in my lap as he slept. It was one of the most maternal moments I've ever had (and I've had many, with three summers as a counselor and two classes of students). There's a lot I don't know about these boys: I don't know much about the families they come from or what family remains. I don't know their thoughts or feelings about the states of their lives. I don't know their desires for themselves or hopes for the future. But I know our Jehovah Rapha heals and restores, and I know the depth of the hope I harbor for them. It's moments like these, moments in which I am so clearly reminded that God is compassionate and at work in the lives of His children, that I have to stop and say thank you.

"The Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving toward all he has made." Psalm 145:17