“Pray my dad will be out of jail before my birthday.”

“Pray for my dad while he’s in prison.”

“Pray I’ll get to see my dad again. I think he’s in Odessa.”

“Pray my dad will come visit.”

“Pray my dad will be able to come back from Mexico to see me.”

“I don’t like my name because I’m named after my dad and he did some real bad stuff to my mom.”

After a truancy hearing last week, I watched a 16 year old boy weep in the hallway over his father’s treatment of him. He had been skipping school because he knew it would get his dad’s attention. He got his dad’s attention. But not the kind he was hoping for. All I can tell him is two things:

1. God is the Father to the fatherless. He loves you and never leaves you.

2. Decide right now that you’re not going to repeat your dad’s mistakes. Be there for your kids. And if you’re not ready to be a father, don’t do the one thing that can make a 16 year old a dad.

If there’s one thing I accomplish through Mission 2540, my hope and my prayer is that the boys we spend time with will grow up to be good fathers. Fathers who love their kids, spend time with their kids, and earn the name “Daddy.” Because their are too many who haven’t done the job.

“And the King says, “Look! God and his children are together again. No more running away. Or hiding. No more crying or being lonely or afraid. No more being sick or dying. Because all those things are gone. Yes, they’re gone forever. Everything sad has come untrue. And see – I have wiped away every tear from every eye!”  Jesus Storybook Bible, Sally Lloyd-Jones

This is one of my favorite parts of the Jesus Storyboook Bible (easily my favorite book to read to kids). It’s her interpretation of Revelation 21 and it’s beautifully written. If you’re a Tolkien fan, it’s also a play on the question Sam asks Gandalf toward the end of The Return of the King, “Is everything sad going to come untrue?” I know the answer to Sam’s question is yes. But sometimes, I wish that coming untrue part would hurry up and get here.

I met a little kindergartner named Larry two weeks ago at Cathy’s Pointe. He and his older cousins played with us every day and had a blast. I was hoping to get to know him better. Tragically, he was killed early yesterday morning when the car he was riding in overturned outside Clarendon. His cousins and aunt are in the hospital. He was just 5 years old. The kids at Cathy’s Pointe were pretty upset and confused yesterday. I wish I could make it all come untrue.

I’ve recently began working with a family comprised of a dad raising his 4 year old and his two step children. They shared a mom with his daughter. Mom died a couple weeks after giving birth. He’s been forced to raise the 2 oldest as his own, as they really have no other family. He’s struggling. The four year old is so distressed by their living situation that she’s been pulling out her hair clumps at at time. The oldest have multiple problems of their own. The whole situation is messy and painful. I wish I could make it come untrue.

One of my 9th grade boys has been skipping school regularly. He met with a judge last week and is on his last chance. If he doesn’t get his act together, he’s done with high school and will have to pursue his GED. He’s got so much potential and I have so much hope for him, yet he’s throwing it all away. He’s full of hurt and anger over his dad’s lack of involvement and broken promises and it’s affecting his school work and behavior. He’s found acceptance with the wrong group of guys. I hope he listens to his mom, listens to me, listens to other positive voices in his life. Honestly, I don’t know if he will. I wish I could make his bad choices come untrue.

I could go on and on. I hear story after story after story. Of hurts and pains and heartaches. Of broken promises. Of loss. Of fear.

That’s why this week, Holy Week, is so significant for me. Because Jesus Christ took all of sin and all the consequences of sin – sickeness, death, pain, heartache, abuse, suffering, we have hope. Because He conquered death, we have hope. Because he promises to return and make everything new - we have hope. Without Jesus, what else do I have to offer? A hug, some advice, an ear to listen, maybe. Sure, those are good things, helpful even. But apart from Jesus, apart from the resurrected hope of a life made new, none of that means much of anything.

So this week, as I prepare for Easter. As I tell all our Mission 2540 kids about what Jesus did and why Sunday isn’t about Easter Bunnies and eggs, I’m holding on to hope and I’m passing on that hope to our kids as best I can. That today may be dark. It may be sad. But Sunday is coming. You may struggle. You may hurt. Your heart may break. Life may not be easy. But Sunday is coming.

And everything sad is going to come untrue.

I’m holding on to that hope this week.

Above are a couple of sisters new to the apartments. They had a great time and couldn’t wait to come back every day.

We had multiple games of soccer, basketball, baseball, and jump rope going on simultaneously every afternoon. There was plenty of fun for everyone.

The girls had a great time on the playground equipment as well.

Tuesday was pretty darn cold, so we spent a lot of time indoors. We almost ran out of room, which is always a good thing.

One of our boys, Etiene, celebrated his 11th birthday on Wednesday. The Rush Creek group bought cupcakes and had a great little party for him. He was still talking about how great it was yesterday. And wouldn’t you know it, but that was the afternoon I took off to spend some time with my own family during their spring break, so I don’t have pictures. I wish I did, because that was a really cool, thoughtful thing done by those kids.

It was a fun week, and I hope we can get the Rush Creek group back next year. Our kids loved them!

February 29, 2012

I returned home from an incredible trip to Haiti late last night. I’m not really going to blog much about that trip here.  You can read about our adventures at www.hatshaiti.org where I provided daily updates about all our fun. It was a really wonderful trip – Haiti is a beautiful broken country full of beautiful broken people. I’m in love with the place.

But it was a trip I took with a very heavy heart. I left early last Thursday morning, knowing that Jeremy, one of my very best friends, a guy I’d known most of my life, was losing his battle with brain cancer. I was able to say my goodbye before I left. It looked like he wasn’t going to live past the weekend. I grieved before I left as best I could, not knowing what the future days held. God was faithful and gave me the strength, joy and energy to be able to love on a bunch of amazing kids at the orphanage.  But still, it was tough. But I made it through. I was able to laugh and play and pray and forget the worries back home for chunks at a time. But still…

Jeremy died on Sunday night. I was sleeping alone in the dark in a little bunkhouse at the Comfort home. The Comforts are a couple raising 13 kids, 12 of whom were born with AIDS/HIV. The 13th has other major medical complications (http://ilovehaiticomfort.blogspot.com/ ) I had spent a crazy week with them on a trip to Haiti last year, so Ray Comfort came by the HATS orphanage where we stayed to bring me to his place for a 24 hour visit with the family. I woke up Monday morning not knowing what was going on back home.  The Comforts have a computer with a satellite hookup, so mid-morning I was able to sneak away from the hours of carrying kids around, blowing bubbles, spinning in circles, and doing magic tricks to log on and check my messages.  And there it was.  The message I’ve been dreading for 3 months.  My wife wrote to tell me Jeremy had died.

As much as I had prepared for it, as much as I was at peace knowing that Jeremy was no longer in pain, as much as I was relieved that this long nightmare was over, I hurt.  I was sad. I was broken. I was angry. And I was standing in the middle of chaos. 13 orphans in the middle of a little room trying to play with the stuff I had brought them. Starving for my attention. Wanting to play. To read. To laugh. To blow more bubbles. I just wanted to weep, to grieve, to get away.  But I couldn’t. All I could do was sit on the concrete floor, covered in dust and children.  Little Marissa came and sat on my lap. I watched the kids play, in a daze.

Then something remarkable happened. Little Rosy came over to me and sat in the part of my lap unoccupied by Marissa.  Rosy is short for Rosemond, but everyone calls him Rosy.  He’s 8 years old, and he is a walking, talking miracle.  The Comforts got him at age 3.  He had suffered from severe malnutrition, pneumonia, tuberculosis, scabies, AIDS, and various skin ulcerations and infections when he was rescued from the streets.  He didn’t speak and was unable to walk or crawl. Instead, he scooted around on the floor, pushing himself with his left leg. He weighed 18 pounds.  He is still several years behind in motor skills, but is walking well and speaking well and understands both Creole and English. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, for the most part. He often likes to sit with me and play with my watch, pluck my leg hairs, and poke at the mole on my neck. Doesn’t talk to me much. I always wonder what goes on in that brain of his. But things seem like they’re growing clearer now. He seems happier. He smiles and interacts with the kids more than he did a year ago. My prayer for him has been that he’d hear God’s voice and understand it clearly.

He sat in my lap and looked at me with compassion. He put his arm around me and laid his head on my shoulder, as if he knew. He then gently moved toward me, and did something he’d never done before.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek.

He laid his head back on my shoulder. I looked down at him.

“Thanks Rosy. You knew I needed that, didn’t you?”

He just smiled that crooked little grin of his and gazed at me with knowing eyes, one of which drifts off to the side.  He has a lazy eye, like me. And I knew that he knew. He knew what I needed in the midst of the chaos, the sorrow. It’s as if God reached down from the heavens and, through that little boy, gave me what I needed. A kiss from the Lord. A touch. Compassion. Comfort. I needed the Peace that says “it’s all going to be ok, whether you understand it or not. I AM with you, Brooks.”

In the midst of it all, I found Jesus in the dirt on Monday morning. Through the touch of a remarkable, broken little boy. The kind of goofy little underdog that Jeremy Lavake would have loved and bonded with so easily if the two had ever met.

I still have lots of questions. Questions about life and death. About the unfairness of it all. Poverty. Sickness. AIDS. Brain cancer. It doesn’t make much sense to me. But I know this. God is real. And He is good.

And that’s never been more clear to me than it was on the floor Monday morning. For that I’m thankful.

At the first of this year, we made the move from weekly Monday activities at Cypress Creek to Cathy’s Pointe Apartments. Cathy’s Point is adjacent to the North Grand Villas and is FULL of kids. They asked us to considering coming over there last summer, and the time was right to make the move starting this year. It’s been great fun. We’ve met lots of new kids. Also, several of the kids at those apartments would (and still do) go through the fence they share with NGV to come to my Bible Studies over there.

I’ve started building some relationships with a few of the parents there now as well, and I’m very excited about what the future holds at Cathy’s Pointe. And I hope to be able to do some more stuff back at Cypress Creek later this year. Following are some pictures of the fun at our new place.

We stood in his driveway. His head was downcast as I explained to him the importance of school, obeying his mom, doing the right thing. I asked him why he was acting like he was and doing so many stupid things. I told him I think he’s given up and I want to know why. His head still down, he mumble quietly, “Nobody believes in me. So I don’t either.”

He has a single mother raising several other kids, doing the best she can jsut to survive day to day. His dad has been out of prison for 2 years now after spending most of his son’s life there. He thought once his dad was out, they’d get to spend lots of time together. That hasn’t been the case. Far from it, actually. Life’s been rough. He feels alone.

I told him to look me in the eyes. “I believe in you.”

He just stared at me.

“I believe in you. That’s the truth. I believe you have a future. I believe you can make something of yourself. That you can go further in life than both your parents. That you’re a good kid. That you can graduate. That you can get a job. That you’ll make a good husband and father. You’ve got so much potential. I care about you too much to let you throw all that away. Do you believe that?”

He smiled and nodded. “Go to school tomorrow. And obey your mom. You got that?”

“Yeah.”

Sometimes, kids just need to know someone cares. I hope he gets that. I hope he believes my words. I really do.

It’s always fun to end the year with our annual Christmas Parties at both properties. We eat way to0 many chicken nuggets, sing songs, read the Christmas story, and have a wonderful time. This year, an amazing home group from Paramount Baptist provided us with a bunch of gift bags to hand out all the kids at the party. So they were pretty pumped about that. Some pics from Monday’s party Cypress Creek:

Yesterday at the North Grand Villas, we had 40 kids show up, which made for a wild yet fun afternoon.

Big thanks to all the volunteers who helped brought food and helped organize all the chaos and made the kids feel loved: Suzanne, Nellie, Andrea, Pat and JoDeane at Cypress Creek; Bryson, Claudia, Hannah, and Josh at NGV.

And Merry Christmas!

We were able to help provide Christmas gifts for 89 kids from 26 families this year. We did things differently this time around, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I asked the parents of the kids we worked with, “If you had $75 to spend on each of your children the Christmas, what would you get them?” Some consulted their kids, some didn’t, but they came up with some really great lists ranging from underwear to remote control helipcopters. We went out and purchased and wrapped the gifts on the wish list.

This past Saturday, we then “sold” the gifts to the parents for $5 per child. This allowed parents to make an investment in their child’s gifts this year while at the same time helping them save money to spend on the more important stuff like rent and groceries. I think it was a huge success, and we’ll do something similar next year. I can’t say thank you enough to all of those who gave, shopped, wrapped, and helped organize all the presents. It was a HUGE help! Below are some pics of the big handout.

Again, thanks for helping us share the love of Christ with hurting families this Christmas!

“Being happy”

“When you can relax.”

“When things are happy and nice.”

“When someone is calm.”

“Silence.”

“No harm being done to anything.”

“Listening to music.”

“Kindness.”

“When everybody respects other people.”

“When we have fun with our family.”

“Playing football. It brings me peace.”

“Something you feel comfortable doing.”

“When you can work with others.”

“Patience.”

“Everyone is happy and has what they want.”

“Relaxing with my family.”

“When my family doesn’t argue.”

“When there is no danger around you.”

“When you are happy and not mad at anybody.”

“Peace is perfect harmony where no negative thought is brought up.”

I thought those were some pretty good answers. And I’m so thankful for this season, where we remember the birth of the One who brought (and brings) Peace to all men…