Di's Drama Settles Down
Remember Di? My Miskito teenager that traveled a roller-coaster of teenage emotion and indecision last year?
Here is an update:
As we planned for the trip to Copan, it seemed that every obstacle that could be in the way, was. Her birth certificate. A copy of it was with her teacher in her last school... that was closed for two months. Same story with her grades. We visited the teacher at his home. Although he had promised to help her, when we arrived, he was laying on the couch watching TV and couldn't even be bothered to get up off of the couch to greet us. No help.
We thought about trying to get another original. She is from a small village and the birth certificates from her village are not located in our town, but in another village several hours and an expensive trip way. And, that office was closed for the holidays. Yikes.
As I talked to the airlines about her departure, I asked if she would be able to leave at all without a birth certificate. They said, 'it depends.' I verified that I had actually seen Di's birth certificate and prayed that would be enough.
The morning of our flight, the airlines graciously ushered Di on the plane first which took her out of the excruciating glare of immigration. Her grades... well, we just trusted that somehow God would work that one out, too.
I'll admit to more than a little doubt about her motives. Somewhere inside I wondered if she was secretly planning to meet up with the 'man from San Pedro' that she had been talking to on the phone. I watched her like a hawk as we traveled across Honduras.
All seemed well as she took her entrance exam, had a great interview and planned for her 4-week trial period.
I returned to Puerto Lempira cautiously optimistic about Di's future.
A few weeks later, I got a phone call from a friend that the 'man from San Pedro' was trying to get in touch with Di. The word was that this man had a relative that worked inside the school in Copan who was going to help him get in touch with her. Yikes. Prayer over her and a long, stern conversation reminding her of the truth.
More drama. Di wanted to study computation, but after some interest testing, it was determined that she was more suited to the other line of study that the school offers. For an entire week, Di vacillated back and forth - leaving, staying, leaving, staying. In my mind, I doubted she would stay.
She called me 50 times asking what to do. Honestly, I was exasperated.
And yet, one morning I answered the phone and heard a calm voice... "I'm staying, Laura. Come see me."
Sigh.
Yesterday, I talked to Di and she is doing well; a miracle among many that have happened for her this last year.
If all goes well, on our return trip from the US, our family will visit the school and all 17 of the Miskito kids that PASSED their trial period. They are adjusting to a different world. We are thrilled for each of them. We hope to take care packages of basic necessities to them when we visit. And perhaps, we will get to worship with them one Sunday at the school and see the grand work that God is doing through these persevering teens.
What a privilege to witness.
Here is an update:
As we planned for the trip to Copan, it seemed that every obstacle that could be in the way, was. Her birth certificate. A copy of it was with her teacher in her last school... that was closed for two months. Same story with her grades. We visited the teacher at his home. Although he had promised to help her, when we arrived, he was laying on the couch watching TV and couldn't even be bothered to get up off of the couch to greet us. No help.
We thought about trying to get another original. She is from a small village and the birth certificates from her village are not located in our town, but in another village several hours and an expensive trip way. And, that office was closed for the holidays. Yikes.
As I talked to the airlines about her departure, I asked if she would be able to leave at all without a birth certificate. They said, 'it depends.' I verified that I had actually seen Di's birth certificate and prayed that would be enough.
The morning of our flight, the airlines graciously ushered Di on the plane first which took her out of the excruciating glare of immigration. Her grades... well, we just trusted that somehow God would work that one out, too.
I'll admit to more than a little doubt about her motives. Somewhere inside I wondered if she was secretly planning to meet up with the 'man from San Pedro' that she had been talking to on the phone. I watched her like a hawk as we traveled across Honduras.
All seemed well as she took her entrance exam, had a great interview and planned for her 4-week trial period.
I returned to Puerto Lempira cautiously optimistic about Di's future.
A few weeks later, I got a phone call from a friend that the 'man from San Pedro' was trying to get in touch with Di. The word was that this man had a relative that worked inside the school in Copan who was going to help him get in touch with her. Yikes. Prayer over her and a long, stern conversation reminding her of the truth.
More drama. Di wanted to study computation, but after some interest testing, it was determined that she was more suited to the other line of study that the school offers. For an entire week, Di vacillated back and forth - leaving, staying, leaving, staying. In my mind, I doubted she would stay.
She called me 50 times asking what to do. Honestly, I was exasperated.
And yet, one morning I answered the phone and heard a calm voice... "I'm staying, Laura. Come see me."
Sigh.
Yesterday, I talked to Di and she is doing well; a miracle among many that have happened for her this last year.
If all goes well, on our return trip from the US, our family will visit the school and all 17 of the Miskito kids that PASSED their trial period. They are adjusting to a different world. We are thrilled for each of them. We hope to take care packages of basic necessities to them when we visit. And perhaps, we will get to worship with them one Sunday at the school and see the grand work that God is doing through these persevering teens.
What a privilege to witness.
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