The Value of a Child's Life

            Monday started out as a typical day. It was harder than usual because the week before my family had visited and been such a source of joy and energy.  The kids still asked if “el niño uno y dos” (aka my father and brother) were coming back to play with them even though I had told them a thousand times they had to go home. 

I’ve found here that the finca, God, or maybe just this place, tends to push you to your limit.  I’m with Mother Teresa on this one—I really wish God didn’t trust me so much.  I don’t really trust myself.  But, it still happened and He will still continue to ask more of us then we might think we can handle.  

The Tía from the little girl’s house came running up to me yelling my name as I walked to the middle school five minutes before my English class started. 

“You have to call Natalie right now! No one is answering their phones and there’s been an emergency. Call her right now!” 

I told her I didn’t have my phone, but she needed a number I had so I left my class in the care of another teacher and ran home as fast as I could.  I called and called and she didn’t answer.  I ran back to house 1 and the Tía got through to Natalie.  

“There’s no service in the hospital and I’m running back and forth.  I’m so sorry. No one’s answering their phones. There’s a little boy who’s be seizing for a long time.  He’s not going to make it if he stays here, Tiffany. He has to get to San Pedro as soon as possible.” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“Call Larry.” 

So I did what I was told and called Larry, a pilot and owner of the resort Tranquility Bay down the beach from us.  My family had just spent the week down there with them and he flew them to and from Trujillo.  He and his wife met doing medical evacuations in the Outpost of Northern Canada before he became a Captain for Air Canada.  With over 40 years of experience, we were very confident that he knows what he’s doing.

I got through to them right away and Larry said they would be in the air in 45 minutes.  45 minutes! That’s it.  The hospital was ready to take the little guy in an ambulance on an 8 + hour right through rural Honduras on rough, impossible roads to San Pedro and he was dying.  45 minutes to be in the air was a miracle!  

After that, it took a lot of love, care, hard work, and prayers to keep that little boy alive.  It was a miracle the way it worked out, but still a tough call because chartering a private plane for one person is not cheap.  It was like a perfectly rehearsed emergency drill.  It only left Natalie and I thinking: how could God put everything in place so perfectly like this to save this little boy’s life? 

After a tense hour long flight to San Pedro Sula through a storm, they landed safely and got him into an ambulance for the Hospital.  He was seizing and blacked out for almost 5 hours and it took a doctor, three nurses, and his mother to hold him down the whole way.  The pilot, all the doctors, and the nurses working on him knew the same thing: if they had put him in an ambulance for the 8+ hour car ride through the rough mountain roads to San Pedro, he would have died.  

I never thought I would be put in a position to have to personally charter a plane to medically evacuate someone before, but what is the value of chartering a plane in regards to a child’s life, no matter who they are?  Would the decision have been any easier if it had been one of us or even a child in the States?  The value of a child’s life is the same throughout the world.  It is priceless.  And if we had to do it again, we would in a heartbeat no matter what it cost.  And I know those nurses, who I’m so proud to call my sisters down here, feel the same.  

The founder of this mission, Vincent Pescatore, would have also done the same thing.  In a second.  God provides for those who come to Him.  And we came to Him begging for mercy.   

Later on as I let go of everything in the Chapel, I looked up at the stain glass window above the Cross.  And as I lay there crying my eyes out, begging God to save this little guy’s life knowing that they had done everything they could for him, I read the words: 

“El que recibe este niño en mi nombre, a mí me recibe.”

Whoever receives a child in my name, receives Me. 

I’m not a nurse.  I’ve never been asked to do something like this before, but I know God is asking more of me now than ever.  I just pray I can be all that He needs me to be.  

This little boy’s name is Danny Salinas.  Please keep him and his family in your prayers.  He is from a very small, rural community about a two hour walk up the mountain called Buena Vista.  They don’t have much money, but they do have a deep faith and a beautiful family.  Danny is only four years old and the youngest of his family.  The rest of his brothers and sisters are 14 and up.  He’s their little baby will forever be considered a miracle in our eyes. He is supposed to be released from the hospital this week.  The night he was dropped off and given the care he needed in San Pedro, he woke up and said,

 “Mama, ya me quiero ir.  Vamos para la finca!” 

–Mom, I want to leave.  Let’s go back to the Farm of the Child!-- 

This is the mission of the Farm of the Child.  I want to thank each and every one of you for all of your prayers and donations.  Because of you, we are able to serve the people of Colon, Honduras.  Because of your support and prayers, this little four year old boy has a big, bright life to live.  Thank you! Please don’t stop.

                                           Mission Statement of the Farm of the Child:

Farm of the Child USA is a Catholic, non-profit organization that supports Finca del Niño-Honduras, a mission modeled on the Holy Family that educates, protects, and promotes healing and spiritual formation for orphaned and abandoned children, and families in the local community.

the dignity of serving others

On my first day of actual vacation away from the Farm, my first reaction is simply that I miss those kids.  It's shocking to hear, especially considering that the day before I left was full of meltdowns and drama. The question I keep coming back to is, "why am I here?" What's the point?  Please don't judge.  It's something I think all of us naturally ask ourselves at least once during our time here. 

When one of the teens lashes out at you to make sure you understand that you're not poor, you'll never be poor, and you'll never know what it's like to be in her shoes, what would you say?

When the pain of seeing and hearing about children you love hurting other children you love is thrown directly in your face and it feels like nothing is in your control, what would do?

When the constant feeling of you're not enough, there aren't enough of us, and you know you want to be giving more than you physically can, how would you cope? 

These aren't dark times in the Finca, but there have been some dark days.  A local community leader of Corazalta, the pueblo half way up the mountain near us, passed away unexpectedly and, unfortunately, in a way that would have been preventable in the States.  There have been several incidents where we, as missionaries, have been asked to use our free time to spend with specific children for long periods of time to help give them some space from there houses, but we've been forced to neglect the others who need our love and attention as well.  School started three weeks ago and, while we've all adjusted to the fast-paced life we now lead with our lives scheduled down to the T Monday through Saturday, I'm not sure any of us have had a second to breathe. 

So yes, vacation is good.  But no matter what, the world keeps on spinning, things keep on happening, and none of it revolves around me. Or anyone for that matter.

What is service? I think I'm starting to finally realize that it's not in what I do here.  I'm not here to do things.  It's great that I can teach Kindergarten and English, run Girl Scouts, a small youth group, running club, and many other random odd-jobs.  It's great that I can go to the local women's faith group and support our neighbors in that small way.  But whatever I do, it will never be enough.  I will always disappoint someone, even if that someone is myself.

What I can do is listen.  That's all people really want anyway, isn't it?  Isn't that why we spend all our time on Facebook and twitter, sending snapchats and pintristing our lives, our faces plugged into our phone screens constantly.  Trust me, even though I live in the campo, everyone still has a facebook and cell phone.  People just want to be known. To be heard. And why shouldn't they? There's dignity in that. 

So you want to serve others?  Don't you ever tell yourself you aren't enough.  You are enough.  All you have to do is be a listening ear and willing to hear the stories of others.  That's a service we can all give.  That's giving dignity to the world.

Unconditionally

                All my life my mother has told me she loves me unconditionally.  My dad did too, but my mom said it more often mostly because she was reprimanding me more (don't worry I know you loved me both the same). I know that did more for my self-confidence than anything, though.  Knowing that no matter what I did, my parents made it clear that they would always love me, always. I guess I never realized how much that affects a person until I got older and began to notice something different in those who didn’t have that security.  I felt grateful and sorry and I wanted them to have what I had and know that feeling of safety all at the same time.  I especially want that for our kids here. 

                Ever since I found out I would be the Kindergarten teacher this year, it’s been on my mind to give the classroom a much-needed paint job.  So, with some donations from last year’s Kinder teacher and my parents, we were able to finally buy some paint.  When the kids are on break here and too old to be in winter camp, they go to PAVI which stands for Puente a la Vida Independiente or Bridge to the Independent Life.  It’s a way for them to learn basic skills like gardening, cleaning, building, painting, etc.  In it they are able to help beautify the finca, literally eat the “fruits” of their labor when it’s ripe, and earn a little chore money to buy ice cream or save up and get a nice pair of fashion sandals all the girls are obsessed with.  Part of their money does have to go into a savings account that they will work on building up over time until the day they leave our care and another portion goes to charity and the Church which they choose to do themselves.  It’s a great program and really gives our kids life-long skills and a good understanding of solid work ethic.  

                So, when it was suggested to me that I use the PAVI girls for two days to help me paint the Kinder classroom, I thought to myself, “Well, I’m sure it would be easier for me to do this on my own, but these girls deserve a fun project and I can teach them the proper, professional way to paint.”  What I forgot was that they’re all teenage girls. 

                It was what they would call here in Honduras an absolute relajo (or an absolute mess).  Not only were they painting their hair, their shoes, and each other when I wasn’t looking, but they painted literally every single part of the classroom save the floor and ceiling but including the electric sockets and the light switch. I made them stay late to clean out the school pila they dumped the paint brushes and buckets in leaving a nice layer of watery paint sitting and staining the inside of the sink.  After that first day, I realized I was in way over my head and I was dreading the next.  But, as we left the girls were laughing and singing and I knew that at least they had enjoyed themselves and the first coat in the classroom didn’t look half that bad.  I found myself wishing I spoke better and could explain myself as clearly as I wanted to.  I understand their frustrations with me when I can't tell them specifically what I want; I had plenty of Chinese TA’s in college who barely spoke English…I feel for them.  It’s not easy, but they could be a little easier on us too.  

                The next day was worse because it was raining and they had it in their heads that this meant we don’t have PAVI.  They fought me on it all morning and by the time we got there and started painting, they had an attitude I hadn’t yet seen come out before.  It’s hard for them because up until this point, they saw me as a friend who came to spend time with them and hang out all the time.  And it’s not their fault because in the past as a Summer missionary and someone who came with the Church brigades, that’s what I was.  But now I was in a disciplinary position and I had to hold them accountable for their actions to help them grow and become good human beings and it isn’t comfortable for anyone.  I felt like I had been hit by a train and I was so frustrated and angry at the way they were treating me.  The Farm has a system where the kids get graded on their work from that day on a scale of 1-5, 5 being above and beyond and 1 being needs great improvement.  At the end of the week, they get their points added up and that determines what privileges they get such as going to the weekend movie night or being grounded at home.  Let’s just say that this particular weekend there were quite a few older girls who were not at movie night.   

                I tried to stay as calm as possible, but when we all came back after those two horrible days, I just felt like crying.  This isn’t what I came here for and what good am I doing here if they all hate me?  The last time this happened on a slightly smaller scale, one girl didn’t talk to me for 3 weeks straight. Despite all this, I’ve come to an understanding that this is normal and expected.  Being a missionary is hard.  We are stuck in this small in between of friends and peers who these kids can and should trust, but also as the adults responsible for disciplining them when they act out.  It’s basically crash-course parent training.

                In the end, some wrote me apology notes, others asked for me to come hang out with them several times a day, and another one just needed a hug to make sure I still loved her.  It reminded me that not only do these kids not have what I will always have in my parents, but I'm reminded of the sacrifice it takes to live, work, and give here and that it’s all worth it.  They are worth it.  They remind me of the unconditional love my parents showed me as a child and make me want to be a better person every single day.  We have to be those people for them.  In the words of my parents, “I can be your friend and your parent, but if you make me choose I will always pick being the parent because I love you.”  I feel like I’ve never understood those words more in my life than I have now. 

Posadas and Pizza on a Rainy Day

               December here is flying by. Homemade Christmas decorations are going up everywhere, supplies for endless and ridiculous amounts of cookies are being bought in the city, and in the missionary house you can almost always hear Josh Groban or Michael Bublé Christmas music playing.  School is out—even winter school—and the kids can be found playing marbles at almost every house when they aren’t competing over best decorations.  It’s certainly not a typical “white Christmas”, but I’ve lived in Florida for the last 8 or 9 years so it doesn’t really bother me too much. The cloudy and rainy weather here gives it a nice wintery touch, which is a little helpful for the others.  If anyone’s started to feel homesick, it’s not long-lived seeing as there is so much to be done before La Noche Buena, or Christmas Eve.

                There’s a tradition here that starts 10 days before Christmas called La Posada (Inn).  Two people dress up as Mary and Joseph and go from house to house seeking refuge for the night.  The rest follow them house to house and sing the Posada song.  The first few reject them, all in song, and the final one lets everyone in to sing Spanish Christmas Carols, pray, reflect on a verse, and share a merienda (snack) typically of a baked good—doughnuts or sweet bread—and juice in a bag—a Honduran favorite.  We do it here every day around 4:00, but it’s traditionally done in the evening.  It’s a beautiful tradition to keep alive for the kids and to celebrate the coming of Christ.  Each of the kids in the houses has a chance to dress up and it’s a great reminder of what we’re waiting for.  Everyone is preparing for la Noche Buena.

                As I said, school is out.  That means all us teachers have the week off—sort of.  Well, to give our middle school kids incentive during their 5 week tutoring sessions over their winter break, we created this star system.  They get different things for certain amounts of stars received, but they all saved up during those 5 weeks and decided to buy a bibliocine and pizza (yep, pizza and a movie).  Next time you teachers out there decide you want to take the easy way out and promise your kids pizza you can order up in 5 minutes and put on a movie, I hope you think about what we have to do down here just to get the pizza out in time and then give that delivery boy an extra tip.

                It starts fairly early in the morning.  I have to collect wood in the wheel barrow from the community pile and take it back to our fogon cooking area in front of the house.  Then I take the wheel barrow back to house 5 and go to house 6 to borrow their machete.  After that, I take the machete and slice some pieces of wood to make kindling (thanks to Patrick, because before that I had no idea what to do).  From there, I have to form a little Lincoln log house inside the horno (clay oven) and the fogon (stove top) and stuff it with paper and finally light it.  As the fire burns in the horno, we can start on the Pizza dough and let that rise for 45 minutes.  Meanwhile, the salsina (sauce) can start cooking on the fogon as we grate the cheese.  Once the dough has risen, we can flatten it out into a pan, or as many pans as we may need, add the salsina, cheese, and they’re ready to go!  I just have to take out the burning wood from the horno and leave in some coals and we can set the first pan in.  One problem with cooking on a fire heated horno is that the heat doesn’t stay strong or last nearly as long as a normal oven would.  Our kids get creative though…

The pizza actually didn’t even turn out that burned either!  We sat down to enjoy our work and watched Narnia: the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Maybe I’ve been gone for too long and away from TV and movies, but that is much better than I remember it.  If you haven’t seen it in a while, add that to your lazy day Christmas list.  

From our little house to yours, the Farm of the Child wishes you

 a Very Merry Christmas

and

 a Joyful and Blessed New Year!

Easy (no rise) Pizza Crust

1 pakage of dry yeast (1 tbsp)

1 tsp of sugar

2 tbsp of olive oil

1 tsp of salt

1 cup of warm water

2 ½ cups of flour

1.       Mix dry ingredients.  Then add water in slowly.

2.       Knead and let sit 10 minutes.

Servings: 11g. pizza

Servings (x2): 3 pizzas

Servings (x3): 5 pizzas

White Garlic Sauce

Margarine

Garlic

Onion

Milk

Flour

Salt

Pepper

Basil oregano

Shredded cheese

1.       Sautee butter, garlic, and onion.

2.       Add in other ingredients as desired.

3.       Let simmer.

PS- Sorry for the late delivery! Internet has been out in town for a few weeks, but we’ve managed to find one place that got it working again! Thank for your patience.

Merry Christmas!

Little Treasures

Man, I love these kids so much…but, they drive me crazy!  Always testing the waters, pushing my buttons, but pushing each other’s more.  They can be so sweet and then ten minutes later they’re throwing a fit on the ground or fighting.   I just keep telling myself to suck it up and get through winter school—their version of summer camp and what the newbies are in charge of every year…which is me, Curtis, and Kit—but it’s hard.  I hope this is good training for Kinder though.  Lord knows I need it.  Tutoring in the middle school every morning, on the other hand, is so much more calm and relaxed!  I love it and love teaching them, even when they have attitude.  They don’t get nearly as disrespectful as some of the little guys can. 

This is really when I need to remind myself that I’m in the thick of it now.  I’m finally living out my mission.  I work at a children’s home in rural Honduras—there are endless amounts of chickens and turkeys living outside my window under the roof of our clothesline—and my job is to help  teach, love, raise, cherish, and care for these 37 kids and I know I’m right where I should be.  No one ever said this would be easy. They did say it would be one of the most fulfilling things I’ll do my whole life. 

A new pet turtle the kids found at winter camp

Oso, our resident watch dog who isn't actually ours

And I see this at the end of the day when I’ve finished with the long meetings, the disciplining, my (sometimes very gross) chores, the cooking after struggling to light that fire in the rain and waiting three hours for the beans to be done, and even after that cold shower that’s feeling more and more unwelcomingly icy every day.  That’s when I think to myself, “Thank you God so much for bringing me here.  Thank you for letting them steal my heart.”  Because if I really look back and think about my day I’m reminded of the beauty around me and of those priceless moments I know I’ll remember for years to come.  From sitting in morning prayer with the little girls who are cuddled up to me, still shivering from the morning shower, to the beautiful sunrise that greets us every morning as we walk to the Chapel, warming our hearts as it’s gentle rays peek over the mountains and dance through the branches.  I’m reminded of making coffee and donuts from scratch with the older girls who need the love and attention all teenage girls seek; of laughing and joking and doing each others hair; of simple, quiet games of chess, even as they teach me by way of relentlessly destroying me; of those sweet moments when a house 4 boy runs up to hug me with an unfaltering joy-filled smile.  I’m even reminded in the times I struggle to light the fire only to be surprised by the girls next door cheering me on and encouraging me with their shouts and crazy cheers.  And finally when I make myself get into that icy cold shower and dry off, I know my endurance and will power is getting stronger and more resilient. I’m becoming a more patient person every day.  

God works in these moments of all our lives, but I think I’m finally learning that it all really depends on the attitudes we take.  Some days will always be harder than others, but we still have that choice. I think the same goes for understanding blessings in the world where so much suffering exists. We live in a fallen world and must choose to look for the beauty that God creates out of tragedies. 

(Thanksgiving blog to come! Just got to the internet after it rained and flooded for 3 days straight...pictures to come soon too! Promise!)

Support the Farm in a Simple Way

As most of you can tell, you've pretty much helped me reached my goal for fundraising.  Thank you so incredibly much for your support.  It is such a blessing and no small thing to be overlooked.  

For those of you who have become big fans of the Farm and would like to support it in a small way, you might consider purchasing a new Farm of the Child shirt.  

https://www.booster.com/farmofthechild?share=9001382459064080

They make great gifts too! 

More updates to come...winter school and winter camp are about to start up on Monday so things are a little crazy.  But I promise an update is on it's way!

Love,
Tiffany