What does childhood look like for a typical American kid? Running through sprinklers on a hot sunny day, chasing after the ice cream truck to grab their favorite flavor, going to birthday parties and eating a huge slice of cake, playing at the park swinging and hopping around like nobody’s watching, being read to before bed with a nice big kiss on the forehead before falling gently asleep in a warm cozy bed, and not having a care in the world. What does childhood look like for a Guatemalan kid living at the garbage dump? This is Emerson… He is 3 years old and lives among...

Ahh. Friday, the best day of the week. I get to hold my precious child, but it was so much more than just holding a parentless child; it was a time of joy and worship. As I cling to her, I could feel His arms around me, I could feel my own emotions disarming.  I walk into her room once again; she stares at me with wide-open eyes, but avoids any contact with me. It feels like a test of affection, one I have done many times in my 22 years. I just sit on the bed and wait for her, our eyes lock and they seem to finally brighten. I pick her up, and we go outside. I sing and dance...

     It's funny how God knows. I mean I've grown up saying God is omniscient but do you ever stop to really think about that? Literally, He knows. Everything. He knows what foods we'll wake up craving and what will happen in the next five minutes. He could tell you every single person you drove by today and what car they were driving. And bigger more important things like how you felt when your mom died or how that one incident would shape the rest of your life. He knows those too.    He also knew of this one encounter I would have… ...

Last week we had the wonderful opportunity to go to Honduras for a week on ministry. Our team went to Porto Cortez (a city right on the ocean) with the purpose of pouring into Iglesia Zion Wesley Huci (a local church). Instead we were blessed as many Christians surrounded us with love and truth.                                                 Each time we went...

When I first met Maria, her hands were shaking, her eyes were drooping, her emotions were hiding, and her hope was disappearing. She lives with her son and his family, and her day consists of constant pain and sitting outside in a plastic chair. The first few times we went to pray for Maria it was obvious that she didn’t have much hope left in her. When we would talk with her, she would try and respond, but it all came out as painful mumbles. Most of our information about her came from her daughter. All she was able to tell us was what area she needed prayer in. Our team is a group of...

I walk into the infant room at the orphanage, look down and see a small child, sitting, observing, but not being affected by the joy, the screams, or tears being shed around her. She sits, emotionless.    We stare into each other’s eyes, but she does not move. No matter what I do she doesn’t react. But I knew I was not supposed to leave her side, that there was a purpose greater than I knew. The time comes when I must leave, so I kiss her head, tell her I love her, and walk away. I was confused and overwhelmed by her walls. God, why does she feel nothing? Why...

After missing a week at the dump our team was more than happy as we loaded up in the white rusty van with no seats that we call "Petunia". The children were there to greet us like usual as we pulled up, all smiles, giggles, and quite a few "Holas". I smiled and hugged the kids while my eyes kept wandering around for my amigo, Enner. With me being sick the past two times, it had been three weeks since I'd seen him. I spotted his brother and asked him where he was. He replied back that he had died.. I didn't laugh at the joke. Grace, Rob and I were walking down...