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This is word-for-word the bedtime prayer offered by Caroline last night. I feel certain it is destined to become a classic along the lines of “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep”.

“Dear Jesus,

Thank you for this day and all this stuff you give us.

Please send a beautiful rainbow for us to see some time when it rains.

Thank you for my mama. We love each other so much.

(reaches up to touch my ear)

Please Jesus, don’t let her wear these earrings anymore.

Amen.”

This post was originally published in February 2008.

I am sitting in my hotel room mentally going over the events of the day and I have tears rolling down my cheeks. I’ll be honest, it’s not the first time it’s happened today.

On the flight to Miami, I listened to my iPod most of the way. The song “Captivate Us” by Watermark came on and as I listened to the lyrics I felt like I was seeing a glimpse into my week as I listened to Christy Nockels sing, “Captivate us, Lord Jesus, set our eyes on you. Devastate us with your presence falling down”.

In that moment, I prayed that God would devastate me with His presence on this trip. As much as I imagined that I wouldn’t walk away from a trip like this unchanged, a small part of me was worried that I might. What if it turns out that I’m dead inside?

Today was one of the most heartbreaking, yet joyous days I have ever experienced. We left this morning and headed to one of the Dominican’s Batey communities. These are basically Compassion projects in the midst of sugar plantations owned by large corporations. We were told that most of the residents are Haitian refugees who were lured to the DR with the promise of a better life, which hasn’t been the case. Instead they find themselves barely surviving in a country that doesn’t even recognize them as citizens. They aren’t necessarily slaves, but they aren’t free either.

As we drove into the Batey community, we were surrounded by fields full of sugar cane on every side, which gradually led to a small village where we could hear the excitement of the children before we even got off the bus.

We divided into groups and began to visit a few classrooms that are part of the Compassion project. The first class I went to was filled with kids ages 3-5 and my heart melted onto the floor right on the spot. They sang a few songs for us and we reciprocated by teaching them The Chicken Dance or as I preferred to call it in my limited Spanish vocabulary “El Pollo Bailar”.

Y’all will be glad to know that El Pollo Bailar is every bit the hit in the Dominican Republic that it is in America and that my rhythm is equally limited overseas. There are some things that cross all cultural boundaries.

After a few classroom visits, I was taken to a small classroom to meet my sponsored child named Ana Anjelica. Although I’ve sponsored a child in Uganda since the last Compassion trip, I just began to sponsor Ana prior to this trip. I was prepared that she might be a little solemn because her profile picture was so serious.

I approached Ana and with the help of a translator explained that I was her new sponsor and was so excited to meet her. I had brought a backpack filled with various things that I felt certain a six-year-old girl would like, but as I pulled them out she never cracked a smile. She was polite and answered questions that I asked through the translator but no smile, even when I pulled out my surefire ace in the hole, also known as a Ballerina Barbie.

Honestly, it would have been great if she’d jumped up and down with excitement, but I understood why she didn’t. I have no concept of what her day-to-day life is like or what it involves.

After we met, a group of us went to her house for a home visit. Her home was the worst one I’ve been in since the trip began. There weren’t even sheets used for partitions, but rather long pieces of paper from a Beauty Rest mattress ad. I introduced myself to her mother whose nickname was Chica.

Ana immediately disappeared behind one of the Beauty Rest partitions and about that time her grandmother showed up at the house. We began to talk with them and ask them questions about their life. Ana is one of three children with another one on the way. Her father is a day laborer and just goes out and looks for work every day.

This was her grandmother. She followed us all the way down the road as we left and her expression never changed.

Toward the end of the visit, I asked Chica how I could specifically pray for her family. This was her answer.

“I don’t really believe that God will answer the dreams I have for my children, but I hope they stay in school and get an education so they can have a better life.”

It broke my heart and it made me understand while Ana is such a solemn girl with a sad look in her eyes. She is being raised in an environment where there is no hope.

And here’s where I’m going to be really honest and say that I totally understand why her mother feels the way she does. All she’s ever known is poverty and difficult circumstances. Chica can’t even comprehend what a better life would look like because all she has ever known is hardship. It’s the reality that poverty goes so far beyond material things.

Honestly, it’s hard for me to reconcile it in my mind and understand why I am blessed with so much, when others have so little.
If I were in their place, would I believe that God could answer my dreams? Would I even dare to dream?

I believe as strongly as I believe anything that God is good, but sitting there in that house filled with sadness it was hard to understand all His ways.

I cried as I sat there on the little couch in Ana’s home because I wanted to offer them some kind of hope and, all of a sudden, my $32.00 a month didn’t feel like much at all.

But the thing is that as Ana’s sponsor, I have the opportunity to give her hope. By providing for her socio-economic, academic, spiritual, and physical needs, I am giving her hope for a better life with my $32.00. However, the most important thing I can do is to commit to write Ana on a regular basis to let her know that I love her, that God loves her, and that it’s okay to dream of a life beyond what she knows.

Because if I’m not telling her, then who is?

I understand that in my head, but it devastates my heart. I looked at this little girl today who is the same age as my Caroline, my smiling, laughing Caroline, and all I saw was sadness. God used it to devastate me, but He also used it to challenge me to go deeper. These Compassion kids aren’t just kids on a piece of paper or a random snapshot. They are real kids that are barely making it in this world and need every last piece of hope they can get.

And if you think you can’t make a difference, then let me tell you about Beatriz.

Beatriz was a lady we met on our second home visit and has three children, two of whom are sponsored by Compassion and she told us that she was a Compassion child from the time she was six years old until she graduated from high school. We asked her if she knew who her sponsor was and without pausing, she said, “Bill from Michigan.”

Not only that, her son Misael pulled out the letters he’s received from his Compassion sponsors named Peter and Melanie from Massachusetts. He was so proud of his letters. And even though this family didn’t necessarily have any more materially than Ana’s family, they had joy. It was a startling contrast.

Until today I had no idea how much hope these kids find in having a sponsor and how much the letters they receive mean to them. Not only do you know their name, they know yours and find hope in your words.

And for some of them, like my Ana Anjelica, you may be the only one telling them that there is more than the life they know and that God has a plan for their life.

Words have power, even when they’re written by a goofy American who does a bad version of El Pollo Bailar.

If you’d like to sponsor a child, you can go here or click on the image in my sidebar and if you already have a sponsored child, I encourage you to take the time to write them before the day is over.

And if you haven’t read all the other bloggers on this trip, you can find their posts over at Compassion Bloggers.

This post was originally published in November of 2008.

I just wanted to let y’all know that I’ve decided to take this week off from the blog. Nothing’s wrong and my head is filled with so many things I want to share from the weekend, including how I was almost certain I was going to die at Domino’s Pizza in New Orleans on Friday night.

All I could think was I can’t believe it’s going to all end with a tombstone that reads, “She really wanted that $4.00 pepperoni pizza”.

But I have to say that it ended up being one of the best pepperoni pizzas I’ve ever had. I’ve always heard that near death experiences heighten all your senses and give you a renewed sense of gratitude and that’s how I felt as I devoured that pizza in Room 1203 of the Hotel Pere Marquette.

Anyway, I’ve just felt a sense of God asking me to set aside the blog this week and focus on Him. So that’s what I’m going to do.

I’ve scheduled some old posts to auto-post for the rest of the week and I will be back next Monday with all-new useless stories about whatever happens in the meantime.

Y’all have a great week.

Is it just me or is Wednesday night the worst night of television all week long? Oh, I know there are a bunch of you who watch “Lost”, but that convoluted ship passed me by about three years ago. And, yes, there’s always the “American Idol” results show, but Seacrest kills me with all his drama.

Dude, it’s just a talent competition, not something important like the Showcase Showdown on “The Price is Right”.

Anyway, none of that is really the issue here. Consider it foreshadowing for all the nonsense that’s to come.

Over the last few days, a couple of questions have come up that I wanted to answer. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really come up with anything else to write about.

1. Many of you asked how I know Beth Moore. The short version is that I became friends with her daughter, Amanda, through the wonder that is the internet. We’d read each other’s blogs for about a year and finally got to meet in person at a Deeper Still event in Atlanta last summer when I was there to write for the Allaccess blog.

Since then, we’ve seen each other from time to time if we happen to be in the same city and have become real life friends, not just nerdy computer friends.

So, going out to dinner with Beth isn’t a regular occurrence. In fact, that’s the only time it’s ever happened. Although she does call me CONSTANTLY when she needs someone to translate a Biblical reference to the original Hebrew.

If my twenty-year-old self could read that last sentence she would die a little because how did I become a person who makes dorky Bible study jokes?

Truth be told, I don’t know any Hebrew. Except “shalom, y’all”.

2. The other question was about the ribbons on my front door.

That is a Fiesta wreath. There is a big celebration every year in April called Fiesta. It involves lots of parades and people dressing up as faux royalty and riding in police-escorted caravans all over town so they can blaze through stoplights like they’re on their way to a medical emergency as opposed to visiting a local preschool to hand out medals to a group of people who aren’t even potty-trained.

Anyway, you see these wreaths everywhere in San Antonio. Many of them have all sorts of little things tucked in them like a tiny Mariachi band that plays “Guantanamera”, but I chose to go with something more simple.

If you can call something covered in multi-colored ribbons and flowers that are bigger than my head, simple.

And I believe that concludes the question-answering portion of this post, but I have an idea.

If you have any other questions that you’ve ever wanted to ask, leave them in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer some of them at some point next week, or maybe never depending on how I feel and what the questions are.

I’ll even tell you what I weigh. In my dreams.

Also, I’m heading to New Orleans this weekend so if you have any restaurant recommendations, feel free to share.

And thus concludes a post that makes even less sense than “Lost”.

Thanks so much for participating in the scarf giveaway. I loved reading which scarf each of you would choose and am also forever grateful for all the Sharpie removal techniques.

However, I’m leaving the Sharpie labels because they make me laugh and it’s just a closet. C’est la storage or whatever.

Here are the results from Random.org:

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

341
Timestamp: 2009-03-30 20:08:15 UTC

The winner is Kelli who loved the brown scarf with a gmail address. Email me at [email protected] with your address and I’ll make sure you get the scarf of your choice!

On Sunday evening I searched through the guide feature on our T.V. to make sure I didn’t miss recording any stellar programming on the DVR over the course of the next week. Sure, some people knit or do papier mache, but my primary hobby is managing the DVR.

And you can laugh if you want, but it is a constant struggle to stay on top of how many episodes of “Olivia” and “Monster Fish” we have recorded, because heaven forbid the DVR gets too full and cuts off the end of the latest “America’s Top Model” marathon, leaving me to always wonder which impossibly skinny model with bad hair won the competition.

My television diligence paid off because the Discovery Channel is re-airing the Planet Earth series all week long. We are fans of Earth here at our house and I knew the minute I saw a Great White Shark leaping out of the water to catch a sea lion in its mouth, I’d found some programming that could keep Caroline entertained for hours.

Sure enough, when she got home from school yesterday she immediately wanted to watch the “Earth movies” and we spent the afternoon painting pictures and watching various living things become part of the food chain. I learned more in two hours than I’ve learned in the last fifteen years and now my head is spinning with the knowledge that a sand dollar is actually a skeleton as opposed to just a dollar made out of sand.

Needless to say, I can’t really form any cohesive paragraphs in light of the fact that my mind has been completely blown by all the wonders of nature.

In fact, while we were watching, Caroline was inspired to paint a duck.

A rainbow.

Some flowers.

And to turn herself into a mountain cat.