Back again, visitors gone. One was a friend, the other was the parents of our newest family members. That was hard. How I didn't want to let them hold the little baby. I know that is so ugly, so ugly. A few weeks ago, before we had the little brothers, when the parents came to visit the girls, I sat on the top porch in the hammock. I listened, confessed my so ugly heart to God, and asked for a new perspective. You see, I easily love kids, Easily. I don't easily love parents who abuse these kids. Not easily. So I sat in the hammock and wrote out my feelings to God. Told Him what I would do if I were God, how I would punish, how I would hate. He kindly told me how glad He was that He was God and not me. And as I poured out my feelings and words, He gave me a new perspective. These parents, not so unlike me, are just human. Human. Have lived in horrible conditions, have been hurt, are even sick in their hearts and head. He gave me compassion for them, in that moment. I have thought about that for a few weeks, prayed for them, loved them from afar. Then today when they came and wanted to hold precious Reynaldo, my fleshy heart rose up and what God had showed me went down. Went deep down. As I sat with them, not wanting to leave the baby and little Cindy, my heart became tenderized again. They gave little Cindy a drink, in a coke bottle. As she wallowed around as she always does, it spilled on my socks. Not a problem. But the father felt differently. He was angry, he yelled, he came at her. She cried and jumped into my arms. And in that moment I was softened. Of course towards her, but even towards him. NO, I don't want him to hurt her. I want to make it safe for her, protect her. But I realized that who doesn't feel safe is him, the father. So unsafe that the little drink spilled was a major deal for him. I thought about how he must have lived as a child, things that have happened to him. Now, I am a momma, so I held Cindy tightly and whispered into her ear, but I also felt compassion for him. To be honest, I think the visits hurt the children. It sets them a few steps back everytime. I see their fears and hurts come alive each time. By law we must let them visit. But I pray that something, something will change. I pray for the parents and the children to not continue to live in fear, torment, and anger.
You see, this is why I don't journal so much, it is always a lot of things like this that I experience, and it takes a while for me to process, It takes a while for me to understand what the Father is teaching me, what He is teaching His little ones. It takes a while for me to understand how to love, comfort, and pray. This heart stuff is deep!
Thank you for praying for us, for praying for the kids, for giving, for caring, I wish you could experience what your donations, prayers, and care do here. It means the world to some pretty special kids, some kids that I pray will ALWAYS show the Father's love in Honduras. Some kids that the Father has rescued and cares for.