dear alexander...

dear alexander,

i remember the very first moment i laid eyes on you.  every mother remembers that first moment, even if that mother is only a mother for a moment.
it was unlike any other moment i have ever had with any of my other children...but your beauty was not lost on me.  the policeman that carried you seemed a little uncomfortable carrying your load...the gun that was draped across his back was definitely more familiar to him.  give me a baby any day over a gun.  i guess we are different kinds of soldiers, though.
i knew that you were supposed to be mine.  the moment i saw him carrying you, my heart leapt in my chest and i just knew.
that day you were heading to the public orphanage and we were supposed to be driving you there...the miracles that aligned so that you did not are some of the best gifts of my life because it meant that instead you came home with me.
for you, alexander, the Lord changed our lives.
for any mother that doubts that her job as mother is anything short of a calling, i can assure them that mothering a child is the deepest, most profound calling in this world.
you are so important and so valued--you are why the Lord called us to this country.
those early days were beautiful.  all of your brothers and sisters fell in love with you.  harper mothered you with all that she has inside of her.  oliver jack and finley covered you with kisses and lullabies. you are the baby that began the melting process of calvary's baby-hating heart :)  the nights were not long...instead, i cherished each bottle as a chance to snuggle and connect with you.
as you grew we started calling you papa.  oh, papa, we call you this because...well, because you looked a little like a potato for a little while...the cutest potato with arms and legs i have ever seen...but a potato nonetheless.  now, you have grown out of your potato-ness and are extraordinarily handsome...but papa stuck.
it makes me laugh a little because i addressed this letter to alexander and it felt so strange and unfamiliar...to us, you are papa.
life, your life, has been a whirlwind.
you have gained and lost several brothers and sisters along the way.  each one of those losses prepared me for what will inevitably be in our future.
i want you to know that my heart breaks knowing that i will not be your mother forever.
i will not be the one that covers your head and cheeks in kisses.
i will not be the one that sings ridiculous made up songs as you sit in my lap.
i will not be the one to watch the look on your face while you swing.
i will not be the recipient of those smiles that light up your whole face until your eyes twinkle.
it won't be me and it breaks my heart.
the Lord told me it wouldn't be me from the very beginning.  he told me that my job is to love you while we wait for your mother that will be your mother forever.
this is why you never called me mama.
we all know that's what i am...but to put a name to it, only confuses things...for me, for you, for the kids...
i want you to know it is not because of you.  you are a gift.  you are smart, handsome, silly, and loving...but you wouldn't have to be any of those things in order for me to love you or want you...you are always enough...my love for you has always been the same---when you were grumpy, unkind, or your hair was bad...i want you to know that all the days of your life.
you are enough.  you are a gift.  you are loved.
government isn't something i can explain to you at 7 months old...i don't understand it at 32...
but even if the laws were in our favor or the government had different procedures that made me being your mother forever a possibility, i am believing that it still wouldn't be me.
because if it was supposed to be me, mountains would be moved...
it's not for me not asking it.  it's not for me not pushing it.
i've prayed.  i've asked.  i've done it all and the mountains are still there.
but, i know papa, that your mama is coming for you.
she is going to cover your head and cheeks in kisses.
she is going to sing songs and watch you clap happily while you sit in her lap.
she is going to watch your face as you swing.
and she is going to be the recipient of those smiles...
she will also watch you grow up to be a boy and she will guide you into being the man that the Lord has called you to be.  your name means "defender of man" and i have no doubt that you will be voice for those who have lost their own.
she has been waiting for you and praying for you.
and i will be praying for you and thinking of you all the rest of my life.
my heart is broken, but the Lord has given me such a gift in loving you.  and when the day comes that your mama comes for you, please know that she is not taking you from your home...
i am returning you.

i will love you forever,
cassie

a strong tower...

Life on the mission field is like my house...
Here it is...I think it is charming...I love the green and the wood detailing...don't even get me started on the nice, cool breeze that passes through all the large windows...
I love this house.  When we first moved to Honduras I fell in love with this house and its charm.  I never thought I would live in it, because, of course, I was here for one week.
Yet, the call of the Lord to stay was so loud and the pull was so firm that we reluctantly made the decision to stay here.
From that point on, I called myself the reluctant missionary.
I didn't want to stay here.  It was hot.  People were always running around crazy...there was no structure or routine...I never knew what to expect the next day...our family had no time alone...it was essentially my worst nightmare.
We reluctantly said yes, but I also asked the Lord to make it so evident why he was asking me to stay when it made so little sense to me and then...well, that's when the tornado that has been our experience hit.
All in the span of two weeks our life flipped upside down.
The founder of our organization, and our host family, had to suddenly leave.
At that moment it became clear why the Lord was asking us to stay.  I thought that was it, though, but really, that moment was just the beginning of the Lord leading us as we reluctantly followed.
I kept wondering why he wanted us in our reluctance.
Surely there were people that are more enamored by adventure or have hearts that can handle the levels of brokenness that we have encountered...but still, he called us.
The Lord wanted me to know something...

He wanted me to know that his love is like this house.

I fell in love with a house in a country I didn't want to live in... and this house feels like home.
People are constantly pouring in the doorways of this home and I just love it.  We have loud, messy dinners.  We have laundry on the line constantly.  We have colorful cookware.  We have bedrooms that look like bedrooms...complete with beds, sheets, and little bed side tables.  Sure, we are often times without power.  Sure, the hot water can barely make it up to the second floor. Sure, we use a fold out table and plastic chairs for our dining room table.  But those are the things I can overlook when I feel home.
The Lord knew our home is where we invest...but he also wanted me extend my concept of home.  
He knew that people here need to be invested into deeply and purely... and He wanted us to be the ones who invested in them.

He wanted this because all around my house is this fence:

It is high, and solid brick all around.  The top 3 feet is an additional chain fence topped with barbed wire that is pulsating with electricity.

On the other side of that fence is apparently the most dangerous city in the world.  The city that we have called home.  

I have seen things on the other side of that fence that I never could have even imagined to see...

Just on the other side of this wall is the social security hospital...sometimes the stench of the hospital wafts down to our house...the street is crowded and constantly busy with motorcyclist, pedestrians, and vendors.  Many times, on this crowded, public street, we have seen people drying their clothes in the bushes while they slept on cardboard beside it...we have seen many, many naked people...some are bathing in the river while children and cattle play closely nearby...some are taking a casual stroll down the street..we also watched as a man sat beside a dog that had been hit by a car the previous day and carefully removed its insides for what i imagine to be that evening's meal.  We have watched tiny, unsupervised children juggle and beg for one lempira...basically the equivalent of one nickel...we have seen countless automatic weapons...on guards at every store, on the military police that are increasing their presence, to the trucks that the backs are brimming with military police wearing masks that cover everything except for their eyes...we've dropped off a friend's child at school countless times passing by the bus stop that was bustling with activity on the opposite corner of the school; only to see it shut down and overgrown in a matter of weeks due to threats of gang violence because that particular route did not pay their gang tax.  We shop at the grocery store where a man was gunned down by men on motorcycles carrying automatic weapons.  

All of this happens on the other side of the wall that surrounds my house...daily...hourly.

Yet, inside of this house, we know peace, love, and rest (well, most of the time).  

I think this is what the mission field is like.

  

I want everyone to know that in the midst of crazy, they can know peace.

In the middle of hate, they can feel love.

And when their bodies are dog-tired, they can rest.

The Lord hasn't asked us just to run to this house and shut the other side of the fence out either.  

Our whole life here has been inviting those that need peace, love, and rest the most into our house.  

This is where the Lord has stretched me.

He put in me a desire to open my home to others, but i never knew how to do that.  Being here, I've learned that your house doesn't have to be perfect and clean...it just has to be open.

We've also been in the places where most people would avoid going...

When God calls you to open your home, your investment grows...not only are people pulled in by love...love draws those inside, out.  The Lord made that happen when he brought Anthony into our lives and all of a sudden we found ourselves spending days that turned into nights that turned into weeks at the public hospital.  It was love that drew Kyle out to make home visits for parents wanting to be allowed to have their children back because those very children had been in our home and our hearts were to make sure they would be safe.  

It is in opening our homes that our love grows and begins to not only draw us out but shine a light into the places that would seem dark and scary without it.  

"The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and they are safe."

Proverbs 18:10

The Lord reminds me of that truth everyday.  I have had to learn, like I often do, the hard way that our security comes only from the Lord.  He has taught me, in my reluctance, what it means to enter into the messy.  

I've never once felt afraid in honduras.  

It is only when I begin to think deeply that I even can think of the craziness that our lives have encompassed.  

The Lord was teaching me that His name is that fence that surrounds my house.  Wherever we go we are instructed to invite people into our homes...to invite people into the love that we know, the peace that we know, and the rest that we know... the strong tower, the home, that we carry with us wherever we go.

I am not so reluctant in our lives as missionaries now.  

Now, I am excited and hopeful of what the Lord is calling us to next.

The only reluctance I feel is in missing opportunities to love more...to share more...

I know now, that the scariest place to be is not San Pedro Sula, Honduras, but anywhere without the covering of the name of the Lord.  

I guess He had to bring me here to teach me that.