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Showing posts from April, 2011

God knows their names

A few nights ago I woke up at 2:30am. Anyone who knows me knows that I love my sleep! Instead of tossing and turning and keeping David awake I decided to get up and knock some things off my "to do" list for The Journey. As I was reading through stories of our kids in Guyana and Guatemala and looking through pictures of our grant families, my heart was broken once again. I just wept for these kids and cried out to God. Pictures of these little ones flashed in my mind. Swimming with Ravi in Guyana, seeing Suzie for the first time in Plastic City, meeting Will at my college Homecoming, watching Betzabe lead her class in a dance in Guatemala City, listening to Orwil's Mom share her concern for her child, hearing Teasha share how kids in foster care just want a family. Even as I write this I realize just how blessed I am to know these kids. Those who know me well know that I'm not a "kid person". I prefer to be with those who are 15 years and

It's Real: A Final Reflection on Sara's Life

It’s Real Sara's Story from Angie Hemric on Vimeo . I’ve grown in darkness and suffered in pain. By the wounds I received from others again and again. Forsaken and in grief silently I weep. How sad, yet sweet, my life seems on these streets. Sad and alone I have grown into a young woman who has come to know. Hurts and pains seems like my names; Joy and peace my worst nightmares. Tears become my only evidence as I struggle to hide and cover my shame! I wonder at times is this all I’m here to gain? My life truly describes what is poverty. The power of it In its full capacity of mental slavery. Broken, battered and bruised by the cruelty of mankind my life I lose. Persecuted and prostituted oppressed and suppressed Daily facing some form of distress As I slumbered into living The depth of my pain, today, I cannot explain For once again I am silent Physically silenced by death Buy why! Why did I have to be silent for someone to hear I had called? Why did I have t

Sleepless Awake: Sara's Story Concludes

We could not give Sara everything she needed to break free from the talons that gripped her life. One day she was in Plastic City and the next day she was gone. The dark silences were haunting, disturbing and long. Those who took her in at eleven were no longer satisfied with a few dollars a day. In the last year of her life they sold her to men who kept her until they had enough of her. A phone call on a Sunday afternoon in March brought news that could no longer mute the truth of Sara’s earthly existence. She was found brutally murdered and left to decompose in a trench. The ones who called her whore and made money for their pockets were now left to stare at a local paper and search their own conscience. Our team gathered with the family on that distressing night. The indisputable silence was a sure indicator that death had come knocking again. Sara’s shrinking family was now down to three and we were faced with one disconcerting question: “What do we do now?” In

Sleepless Awake: Sara's Story Continued

God brought me into Sara’s life when I did not know one thing about her - except for what I observed and learned from her younger cousins. As we spent afternoons crouched on narrow wooden porch steps reading books, learning phonics and doing flashcard math Sara watched from a distance. Many times I caught a glimpse of her watching through a window or peeking around a corner. Day in and day out as our time closed and we walked out to the road she would come. In time Sara began to walk beside me and cut me a half-smile when I shared a kind word and said goodbye to her. I learned the first pieces of Sara’s story from her cousins who shared openly. “She has never gone to school.” “She doesn’t have mother.” “She doesn’t have father.” “She doesn’t know her colors.” “She does not know the letters of the alphabet.” “She does not know her numbers.” “She doesn’t know how to write.” “She cannot spell her name” When I learned that Sara could not even verbalize t

Sara's Story: Sleepless Awake

This week we will be posting amazing writing from our Guyana Country Coordinator, Angie Hemric. Over the next few days you will follow Ang on a journey through Plastic City as she tells the tragic story of Sara . Our prayer is that your heart will be touched like ours were when we learned of this tragedy several weeks ago. We encourage you to ask God what He would have you do to Reclaim hope for orphans like Sara This poem was written in July 2008 after my first intensive time living and breathing Plastic City life for ten full days. As I processed through all the stories I heard both there and in a similiar area an hour away God cemented a call that took one more year to crystallize. Now, two and one-half years later the stories that left me sleepless then resurfaced in the face of a girl I knew and held close to my heart. She was lost to “the traffic” earlier this month. We did not expect this aspect of the vision to bang at our door so early in our timeline for pla