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Foster Kids – Forgotten Generation

Psalm 27:10 When my father and mother forsake me then the Lord will take care of me.

When I learned that over sixty-percent of prison inmates came out of the foster care system I was shocked. At the time, my granddaughter Kara, volunteered as a junior counselor at Camp Alandale. A camp started in the 80’s for abused/foster kids. She loved the ministry and invited me to an open house. I wanted to hear more about how the camp programs changed children’s lives. Their program consisted of play times, Bible studies and one-on-one relationships between counselors and junior counselors. Also, the camp was free of charge and the ratio of children was one counselor to two campers making it very personal. It seemed like a very exciting, wonderful ministry. I wanted to be a part of it, but how?

“Why don’t you become a counselor, Grandma?” Kara asked.

I smiled, “Don’t you think 70 years is a bit old for a counselor?”

“These kids need grandmas, too. Why don’t you try it some weekend?”

I took my granddaughter’s suggestion and applied. Soon, all the paperwork and interviews were completed and I headed off for my first winter camp counselor experience. I felt totally inadequate, but was reminded by a friend that “God doesn’t call the equipped, He equips the called.”

Winter camp was beyond my expectations. I watched the campers get off the bus Friday night; many timid or fearful. But by Sunday afternoon, they looked so different, happy, excited and changed. Bible studies, play time and laughter refreshed the campers physically and spiritually. I was especially touched when one young girl asked me if I would be her grandma all weekend. I readily agreed and made it a point to hug her each time I saw her. A very blessed weekend.

At another winter camp I experienced God move in another amazing way. Campers randomly picked their own counselors by pulling a counselor’s name out of a bowl! I was selected by a teenage girl who loved to write. In fact, she had a whole notebook of her stories with her, but she wouldn’t let anyone read them.

I said to her, “Did you know that I am a writer also. I would love to read one of your stories.”

She clutched her notebook tightly to her chest. “No. I don’t share these with anyone.”

“You know what’s interesting, is that you and I are the only writers in this camp.” I gently patted her on the back. “And you picked my name as your counselor. Do you think that was from God?”

She stared at me and ran off to play. But later that afternoon, she found me and asked if she could share her stories with me. I read them. They were good and I told her I thought she was a talented writer. I offered some suggestions and also promised to send her a children’s book I had written about my grandchildren’s life as missionary kids. It was a very blessed weekend.

I have happily counseled more than thirty winter and summer camps, since 2016. I have grown closer to God and feel super blessed to be part of this fantastic ministry.

NOTE: Camp Alandale began in the 1980’s as a Christ centered children’s camp. But, quite by accident, the focus changed. A lone foster child attended, found Jesus and had a major turnaround in his life. It was such a life changer, the social worker called to learn more about the program. The camp founders prayed and changed the structure tominister only to children in the foster care system. The camp is free of charge.

Now, over thirty years later, the camp’s track record indicates approximately ninety-percent of former campers’ lead productive lives. In fact, many of them return to volunteer as counselors. They have defied the grim statistics of homelessness or felons coming out of the foster care system.

MARCO, winter camp

The black hoodie masked his face, but not the anger. He stood apart from the rest of the kids, with arms across his chest defiantly. I learned his name was Marco and his brother had recently been killed in gang violence. At only fourteen, he was too young to have already experienced so much hardship.

It was Saturday night, here at camp, skit time and a chance to act out a Bible story. Marco was on my team.

“What shall we do for our skit?” I asked.

“How about Jonah and the whale?” A camper suggested.

The team agreed and one of the counselors recapped the plot in case any campers didn’t know it.

“Is that really true?” questioned one of the team.

“Of course,” replied another camper. ”Everything in the Bible is true.”

“Why don’t we do a rap song for our skit?” I said.

Marco sat up and stared at me. I guessed because I am a grandmother he wondered how I would even know about rap music.

I snapped my fingers and started chanting,”Yo, bro, here’s a tale about a man and a great big whale.”

The other campers chimed in with verses of their own. Soon we had composed a funny and amusing poem about Jonah. We performed our rap skit for the entire camp. The audience clapped and laughed, but Marco stood behind us, and didn’t join in.

After the skits were over I found Marco sitting by himself. I joined him and put my arm around his shoulder. “You know, Marco, next week you’ll be back in school and you’ll have some rough spots. I hope you’ll remember tonight and it makes you smile. Not only about our skit, but the greatness of God!”

His face came out of the hoodie with a big grin. He looked young and happy. “Yah, that was pretty good.”

Marco was somehow touched that night. I believe God uses so many of our efforts to reach these kids in ways only He can do.

* * * *

ESTELLE, summer camp

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her name was Estelle and she was pretty and blond. But she seemed surrounded by sadness. We were in the same cabin and I wondered how I might reach her. As a counselor, I wanted her to know she was in a safe and loving place.

At breakfast I said to her, “It’s beautiful and peaceful here, don’t you think?”

She covered her mouth with her napkin, “Yes, it is. Please excuse the way I talk. I grew up overseas, so I have an accent.”

“How interesting it must have been to live in a foreign country. Did your parents have business there?”

She looked down at her plate, “No they were missionaries.”

Missionaries? How could a missionary child be in the foster care system? Perhaps her folks died and she had no other relatives? As the days passed she opened up about her life. A very ugly picture emerged. She was the victim of a cult. For fifteen years she spent her youth with a group calling themselves “Christians”. A sect that believed beatings and starvation would keep their children from hell. But they called it repentance and fasting. They worshipped a brutal, demanding god and created a cruel and evil system. It was so harsh even children as young as three were starved and beaten. Estelle told us she became so depressed she considered suicide.

The cult moved to America. One day, a stranger joined them. He explained that the God of the holy Bible was kind, loving, and compassionate. Since the stranger disagreed with their philosophy he was soon thrown out of the cult. Estelle’s older sister fled with him. Estelle felt even more alone. She began reading a Bible she found. Under the covers in her bed at night, she learned the truth about God; His love, His forgiveness, sending Jesus to die for our sins so we could have eternal life. A God of love and hope. She realized how mixed up her parents were.

Meanwhile, her sister reported the abusive cult situation to the police. Estelle’s father was called in for questioning. He brought Estelle with him and told her to lie about the beatings, but added ‘always tell the truth’. Even though Estelle saw the hypocrisy and the lies, she told the police officers exactly what her dad told her to say. Fortunately, the authorities were experienced enough to figure out that Estelle was afraid and lied to protect herself. She was rescued and placed in a real Christian foster home.

Sadly, years of beatings and cruelty left their mark, but at Camp Alandale, Estelle grew close to God. Personal honest conversations, Bible studies and having fun led Estelle to see real Christianity in action. Staff, counselors and fellow campers loved and comforted her.

We learned that Estelle’s passion was Christian rap music. Often we heard her singing around the camp. She wrote several songs to honor God.

On our last day at camp, counselors shared qualities and blessings they experienced with the campers. They also wrote letters of encouragement to them. However, the last day of this camp something more extraordinary happened. Estelle, only four months out of the cult performed a Christian rap. Tears streamed down my face as I watched her dance and sing on stage with such joy. I gave thanks to a Holy God. Only He could deliver a child out of such darkness into such light.

MARLENE, winter camp

Tyler, the camp director announced, “It’s time for one-on-one, with your counselors. See you in thirty minutes.”

Marlene, my camper and I headed outside. I sent silent prayers to the Lord, please help me find the right words to comfort her, so I can be a blessing. Already, she’d told me details of her terrible past. When she was only five years old, her mother, a drug addict, sold Marlene into sexual slavery to feed her drug habit. Marlene’s life had been one of violence and abuse. I was at a loss to know of anything I could say to ease the years of pain.

We walked outside and passed a huge pile of snow. “Isn’t snow wonderful?” I asked. ”And isn’t God amazing to make water into fluffy white snow.”

“I’ve never seen snow,” she replied.

On impulse, I gently threw some snow at her. She laughed and threw snow back at me.

I grinned. “Let’s make a snowman.”

“How about a snow girl?” she asked.

We spent the next twenty minutes creating our snow princess. Marlene, tied a red ribbon on our snow princess and gave her a tinfoil cape with a matching crown. For eyes we used pebbles and we fashioned a big smile from pine needles. The two of us stepped back to look at our snow princess. Then we hugged each other and laughed! Marlene’s face glowed with a youthful happiness. I snapped some pictures of both of us and our snow creation and promised to send her copies.

That night after dinner, we watched the movie “Courageous” a Christian movie about fathers who make a pact to be stronger spiritual leaders for their families. Most of the campers, including me cried all through it. Marlene stood up and walked away. I was concerned that the movie triggered a bad memory. But she wanted to pass tissues to everyone.

The next day at our one-on-one time we talked about the importance of fathers. I held her as she cried because her father was horrible and how much she wanted a real loving father. The rest of the weekend we spent in prayer and Bible studies growing closer to God. We talked about the power of forgiveness, the future God had for her, and about letting go of the past. Even though she had confessed the Lord as her savior, she was struggling with her abusive past. But at Victory Circle, I told her she was a daughter of the King, adopted by God into His forever family. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she realized how wonderful it was to be a child of God.

Before she got on the bus to return home, she told me how the weekend had been life-changing. Our play-time in the snow gave her a childhood she had lost. Also, she realized God, her heavenly Father gave her the best family of all! I loved being a part of God’s plan.

Chapter Thirteen – Ferrier, Haiti, Medical Mission 2019

Wouldn’t Have Missed it for The World!!!

Last trip! Hardest Trip! Best Trip!

Proverbs 3:27 Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due when it is in your power to act.

· * * *

“Join us in Haiti?” read the text from Dr. Peter of Faith Care Ministries.

After a three-minute decision, I responded. “Absolutely. What dates?”

The trip would occur during the week of my 74^th birthday. Wouldn’t that be a celebration; Haiti on a medical mission trip. Excited I completed all the paperwork, got the shots and started Malaria meds.

A few days before we left, my friend Sharilyn called,” Hey, Susan want to take my Mom’s wedding dress to Haiti?”

“Sure. I’ll come get it and deliver to a bride-to-be in Haiti.” Not having a clue how that might work!

Since I believe God moves in mysterious ways and put this on my friend’s heart, I agreed. Then I remembered that nine years ago after canceling a trip to Haiti, I had intended to bring a wedding dress. Could this be unfinished business?

Soon the departure date arrived. I waited at LAX for the red-eye flight to Miami Beach, Florida where I would connect with the team. Excited, afraid and more than a little anxious I boarded.

In Miami, a small group waited for the flight to Cap Haitian, Haiti. I recognized Dr. Peter immediately. His warm smile eased my fears. His two daughters ages fifteen and thirteen joined us. My adventure began, then halted when it was announced they needed to find a new plane! At last we were on our way. Arriving in Haiti, warm tropical breezes greeted us along with a Caribbean-style band and singers. I loved it.

Entering customs with so much luggage, personal and medical, gave the appearance we would be in Haiti for months instead of a ten days. Customs officials wanted $1,000.00 to bring our supplies in. Really! We were there to help their fellow-countrymen. Dr. Peter sent in friends who talked the officials down to accepting $100.00. Thanks to God who is bigger than airport officials and greed.

Driving to Ferrier through the countryside, I felt overwhelmed by the poverty and desperation. Sadly, that had not changed since my last visit. But two old friends, Whitney and Cyrus from previous visits to Maissaide, Haiti joined our caravan. They greeted me with hugs, glad we were once again uniting to help the Haitians. An hour-plus drive until we finally arrived at Ferrier, a village of thirty thousand.

In spite of a long day, the five doctors on the team wanted to inspect the building that would be used for our medical clinic. The rest of us settled into our quarters. A two-story guest-house decorated with beautiful tile floors and vaulted ceilings and one bathroom for eight women and no bathroom door! The men’s bathroom had no shower so we shared ours. The power situation was iffy! Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t!

After a long day, we retired early. However, yelling neighbors, barking dogs and loud automobiles offered very little sleep. But I brought a mosquito-net tent to prevent bug bites and it turned out to be a wonderful asset and kept out unwanted insects.

Before dawn, we awakened to a rooster crowing. This was going to be a long week! I prayed that God would help me to be a blessing! Today, Sunday, my 74^th birthday and I thanked God that I was still in good-enough shape to be serving Him in Haiti.

After breakfast we walked through the village to the church. Pastor Whitney preached on trusting God which was just the message I needed. Then we were introduced to the congregation. After church and lunch, we walked to the ‘clinic’ to set up our outreach.

The medical facility took place inside a fenced school complex. The yard littered with trash and pot holes surrounded by several concrete buildings would house different medical areas. The rooms lacked windows, running water, power and air-conditioning. To me it seemed like a poor choice for a clinic. Plus, only two toilets that did not flush, for the three-hundred or more people expected each day!

The medical team amazed me because in a few hours the marginal facilities transformed into a fully stocked pharmacy, two operating rooms, a recovery room plus a prayer haven. Dr. Lucy the volunteer ob-gyn set up her exam room. It was impressive.

Our afternoon ended. Hot, sweaty and tired we walked back to our guest house only to be told there was no power so there would be no showers. Some birthday! But after whining, I was awed at God’s grace and His provision when the team brought out a Birthday cake. They sang Happy Birthday and even gave me a card. Although frustrated with the conditions, I thanked God for being with us. I couldn’t imagine where they found a cake in this village. It was a yummy angel food cake.

Dr. Peter must have known that I found the conditions difficult because he said he could give me a catheter so I wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom all week! Too funny! I love the team. He also advised us, “Do not hold any babies. The mother may disappear in the crowd hoping you will take the infant to America.”

I wondered if God wanted us to experience life as the Haitians must live every day. Life as so many people around the world live; lack of basic sanitary conditions, no electricity and no running water. I watched women with huge buckets on their heads walking to the town well for water, with small children in hand. By God’s grace I was born in America. I felt ashamed and humbled that I complained!

Among the gifts I brought were ribbons, hair ties and tooth brushes. Marie, a Haitian-American nurse, put each one in a plastic bag and added candy and a pencil. She gave them out to the children. How thoughtful! Friends also donated new underwear, which Dr. Lucy handed out to her surgery patients. She blessed so may Haitian women! She told me, “I came from Puerto Rico and humble beginnings, so I want to give back to others.” She came to Haiti every year with Dr. Peter. I also learned that Faith Care Ministries, in operation for twenty-five years, treated over 200,000 people during that time!

Monday morning, gathered for worship on the roof, I watched the sun rise over Haiti. I felt blessed and at peace in spite of the noisy villagers around us. It occurred to me, that the One who rules eternity, calls me His friend! After worship and breakfast, we walked to the clinic smiling at the villagers on the way. The Haitian children are so precious.

Standing in line outside the fence, waited over one-hundred people! Overwhelming! But local villagers acted as guards and calmed the chaos. Only thirty people at a time were allowed to enter. They went to the first stop, where blood pressure, temperature and pulse rate were measured and entered on their card. Then, they proceeded to medical consulting, where I helped. Four American doctors (with translators) and four Haitian doctors diagnosed physical problems. I took the patients to the spiritual consulting room for prayer and to learn about Jesus. From there they went to the pharmacy or to surgery or home. It was orderly and professional. Each day patients were given a different colored card to prevent cutting in line.

Because I had no medical training, I wondered what value I could offer. As I walked each person from medical consulting to the prayer room, I hugged and prayed for each one. I also figured out that most of our team were not Christians, but came as humanitarians. So, in addition to our ministry to Haitians, we shared Christ with our fellow team members; a double mission trip! God never ceased to amaze me on this trip as on others.

Monday at lunch time we learned that 167 people had already visited our clinic with 12 people deciding to follow Christ. And this was just our first half-day!

Dr. Peter’s daughters, ages 13 and 15, helped their father in surgery and assisted in the pharmacy. At the end of each day these amazing teenagers played games with the Haitian kids! It was too cute watching them play ‘Duck, Duck, Goose.’ What a wonderful witness! Karl, the pharmacist summed up our purpose, “We came to ease the suffering and present the gospel of Jesus Christ.” At the end of the week we had more than accomplished our purpose!

Monday and a very long day came to a close. We walked back to the guest house to learn there was power to pump water for showers. A big thank-you to God. Even though the water wasn’t heated, cold showers felt wonderful. Cold and wet worked. Everyone cooperated and took short showers. The team spirit impressed me. But God’s design to bring all of us together to help Haiti impressed me more. God moves in mysterious ways.

However, sleep became difficult each night. Between the noisy villagers and barking dogs and hot humidity none of us slept very well. Morning came all too soon. Roosters crowed and the village dogs howled at sun rise. But, my favorite part of the day occurred each morning as we gathered on the roof to worship and pray. The orange-pink sky gave proof to the majesty of God. I knew also, that this may be my last trip to Haiti, so I prayed that God would make it memorable.

Meanwhile, the wedding dress sat in my suitcase. I mentioned my gift to most of the team. They politely said they’d keep it in mind, but I had doubts as to what to do with it. Should I just leave it at the guest house? Should I bring it home? I prayed again for God’s direction.

In a wonderful miracle, as only God can do, He sent me a bride-to-be! Tuesday afternoon I helped Dr. Ricky in medical consulting. Listening to how he determined a patient’s problem fascinated me, especially since this was a different culture and language.

Dr. Ricky kindly asked each patient, ”How can I be of service today? What is bothering you? Where does it hurt?”

I enjoyed watching Dr. Ricky determine the medical course of action. Between patients I struck up a conversation with Rafaele, a young woman translator, who lived in the village.

“Are you married?” I asked.

Timidly she lowered her head, “No. But I have a fiancé.”

Was this God’s direction? “So, are you planning on getting married soon?”

“We are praying about it.”

“Do you have a wedding dress?”

Sadly, she shook her head.

“Would you like a wedding dress from America?”

Shocked she didn’t say a word.

“I brought a white satin wedding dress with me. Would you like it?”

At this point I wondered which of us was more amazed at what was taking place. “I will find out how to get it to you. I also brought a veil and a rhinestone headband and heart shaped buttons. Oh, I have a sewing kit to alter the dress.”

I checked with Venton, our director on when and how I should deliver the gift. It worked-out to take it to her on Friday, the day the clinic ended. He explained, “We need to keep a low-profile and since we will leave on Sunday, the villagers won’t be coming to our door asking for money or other hand-outs.”

Every day Rafaele asked me about the dress and if I was really going to give it to her. I guess she must have thought it was too good to be true.

Wednesday continued the same as the other days. They were hot, sweaty, noisy but there were a lot of happy Haitians. However, Wednesday evening Pastor Whitney re-joined us. This was a surprise as he was supposed to fly home to New York.

“Weren’t you flying out of Port-au-Prince yesterday?” I asked.

He replied, “The capital and all the roads leading into the city are closed and barricaded. There are political demonstrations and riots happening. It’s turning into a violent situation.”

This did not sound good to me. I wondered if I should be concerned. Perhaps here in the countryside politics weren’t that important. Nobody else on the team seemed upset, so I decided not to worry either.

Thursday, Valentine’s Day, I woke up before dawn to the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen. One of those ‘freeze-frame’ moments you want to enjoy forever. Shades of orange, yellow and pink blending together with palm trees swaying in the foreground as though dancing. I ran up to the roof for a better view. Venton, Peter, Marie and Karl were already up there in prayer. I joined them and In unison we thanked God for all his blessings and to help our Haitian friends.

Later at our worship time on the roof, Venton surprised all of us ladies with Valentine hearts full of chocolate. What a wonderful Valentine’s day surprise! I ate mine immediately. Dr. Peter and Venton gave us hugs and thanked us again for all our help. The devotional words for the day rang true, “You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.“

Our pharmacist, Karl, headed home today, but before he left, he gave me a big hug and told me I was an inspiration! How sweet. His ride to the airport picked him up at ten o’clock in the morning for an afternoon flight in case of barricaded roads. We heard later that he made it home okay.

I decided to call Shannon and Jason and asked them to pray for our political situation. We heard it was deteriorating and getting worse every day with increasing violence. So glad God is sovereign.

Thursday, our second to last day. The clinic grew unusually busy and also overly chaotic. In fact, we closed early at four o’clock. The crowds became unruly and aggressive. Perhaps because they knew we were leaving soon or it was the worsening political situation. But on this day, I decided I wanted to be a bigger part of the team. I asked Dr. Peter if I could help in the operating room. He readily agreed. Even though I grew a little nervous I knew I would never again have a chance to see an operation up close.

Dr. Peter found me in the afternoon, “Put on a gown, cap and mask and come to the operating room. You can help Dr. Lucy finish surgery.”

Suiting up, I walked into the operating arena and watched Dr. Lucy sew up a woman after a hysterectomy. The patient, under a local anesthesia, a spinal injection, was scared and kept asking if the operation was over. I rubbed her shoulders with one hand and held up a bright light with the other so Lucy could see better. The first thing I thought as I watched the doctor operate, was from the bible “we are fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dr. Lucy sewed the abdomen together with small tight stitches. Amazing! She wanted to know if I was dizzy or faint and surprisingly, I was not. Just in awe of God’s creation. On a funny note, I asked Dr. Kurt what dripped out of a plastic bag next to the patient.

“Oh, that’s Vodka we are pumping into Dr. Lucy.”

His funny joke helped to lighten a serious situation. Dr. Lucy showed me the woman’s uterus that she removed. It was so large it filled the plastic bucket. The hysterectomy saved the patient much pain and probably saved her life, as well.

Dr. Peter told me that one of the women having surgery brought her own blood in case of an emergency. A nearby blood bank filled her request.

Thursday came to a close early and we headed home. Just a few days left. I praised God for sustaining me. Returning to the guest house waited a wonderful surprise, the air-conditioning was on and cooling our rooms. That night with the windows closed, the cool air and the hum of the machine I slept the best of the trip.

Friday and our last day. We planned to close at noon, so we could pack up the clinic. I looked for Rafaele to present her with the wedding gown. She waited at the gate for me. We found a quiet room and I carefully removed the dress and the veil from the bag. I draped the white netting over Rafaele’s face. She looked lovely and I could tell she was thrilled! Along with the dress and rhinestone bling, I gave her some money. She hugged me and the dress and invited me to her wedding! The gown would bless her on the big day. Afterwards she could sell it or rent it for more money, a double blessing!

At noon the school yard stood deserted and quiet. Our medical clinic ended and it had been a difficult but incredibly rewarding week. I wondered if we would go to Cap Haitian for a Saturday outing, but the rumors of increased violence indicated we needed to leave the country sooner.

Venton held a meeting during dinner. “I want all of you to know what a difference we’ve made. First of all, the village thinks we were a miracle, since they feel no one really cares about them, being so remote.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “For those of you into numbers, here’s what we did in four-and a-half-short days. We saw 1,100 patients, performed 46 surgeries and the best news of all, 192 people committed their lives to Christ.”

Wow, what a trip. Then the dinner conversation turned to the deteriorating political situations involving riots. Should we leave early?

Dr. Peter told us, “Our plan is to drive to Cap Haitian tomorrow, Saturday, change our tickets and head home.” He looked at his daughters. “The violence is supposed to increase over the weekend so at any rate we want to be near the airport.”

Venton added, “Our ride is picking us up early tomorrow at seven a.m. We’ll pack up tonight.”

Dinner finished. We headed to our rooms to gather luggage. I slept well that night and the village was surprisingly quiet. Most of us were up with the sun and carried our bags to the front door. I really wanted to go home. Our Haitian ride to the airport was very late. Eight o’clock came and went before our drivers appeared. There was a sense of urgency with the need to avoid road blocks or angry demonstrations. Pastors and others that had joined forces with us came to say a tearful good bye and lots of thanks for our visit. Several hugs and tears later, we headed for the airport, praying all the way for no trouble.

The Cap Haitian airport, usually quiet was a noisy circus. People stood shoulder to shoulder to get tickets to leave the country. Venton offered to deal with American Airlines to get all our flights changed. We waited amidst the clamor and almost panic-like atmosphere.

“American wants $200.00 per person to change our flights!” reported Venton.

I asked, “That’s just from Haiti to Miami. What happens in Florida, another $200.00? I don’t want to pay extra money. I’d rather wait a day and go home as scheduled.”

Evidently, Dr. Peter along with his daughters, Marie and myself felt the same way. We decided to remain in Cap Haitian. The rest of the team choose to leave for Miami. We left the airport to stay with a pastor friend of Whitney’s. He agreed to put us up for the night at his beach-side home. The house overlooked the ocean with a huge terrace. Inside each room was laid with exquisitely tiled floors and white furnishings. It was absolutely gorgeous. What an estate! I looked forward to just enjoying some ocean breeze time. Marie and I just settled down in our rooms and changed into comfy clothes.

Dr. Peter called from downstairs, “We just got a text from Venton. American will change all our flights at no cost, so we’re heading back to the airport.”

We met up with Venton at the American Airlines counter. All the lines of people were gone and our new tickets processed quickly. We surprised the rest of the team already in the waiting room. I looked at my boarding pass and to my surprise I was all set to fly to LAX. Again, thanks to God who is bigger than airlines!

Once in Miami, we tearfully parted with lots of hugs and pictures. What a week. What a Trip! I was the third person on the plane to Los Angeles. I just wanted to go home. But I wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world!

· * * *

Amos 4:13 He who forms the mountains, creates the wind, and reveals His thoughts to man, He who turns dawn to darkness and treads the high places of the earth, the Lord God Almighty is His name.

TRACT TALES

Several years ago, a pastor challenged our church to hand out ‘tracts’. Since I was a new believer I had no idea what they were. Tracts are small pamphlets that share the entire gospel in an easy to read way. Often they look like greeting cards with a message; perhaps with a prominent political figure on the face or just ‘Happy Halloween’. I wondered if they did indeed work to lead people to Christ. The Bible says God’s word will not return void. This ‘tract’ idea intrigued me, so I took a bunch and tried to hand them out. Some people took them, some did not. The Holy Spirit put it on my heart not to give up. I started putting them everywhere. I went to shopping malls and hid them in pockets of jeans, robes, or purses or wherever!

Then I thought the public library might be a good place. Perhaps in the privacy of one’s own home the word would be read more thoroughly. It turned out to be an exciting adventure, because the Lord directed me to book shelves that I would not have found. Books such as comparative religions or life after death or autobiographies of atheists! To this day I continue to ‘hide’ tracts in as many places as I feel led.

Our town has a huge Halloween parade and I handed out over 200 tracts at that one event. People eagerly took my “happy Halloween” cards. Recently I took a class at College of the Desert and I put numerous tracts in the student library. I figured out that this year I have handed out or distributed nearly 600 tracts. I have no idea if anyone read them and got saved, but I do know the Lord can use these messages. This is not a bold ministry, but I do feel I am somehow answering God’s call to spread the good news. I get my tracts from “Moments with the Book” on line.

Camp Alandale Tales

Always interested in children and especially making a difference I went to an Open House at Camp Alandale, a camp for foster/abused kids. I thought most of the counselors would be teenagers BUT that is not the case. These children need mature role models……especially grand- parents. So I applied and have done several camps.

This was my second Winter Camp, just a weekend from Friday Night to Sunday afternoon. Each counselor is paired with one or perhaps two campers, making the camp experience impactful and very personal. My two campers were both atheists, bitter and angry. There is a lot of mistrust among these foster kids. I can’t blame them. The foster care system is a mess. Both my campers were also aloof, but I didn’t take it personally. I know how damaged many of these kids are.

So, how can you change lives in just a weekend? Does this camp really make a difference? All weekend, I loved them, listened to them, shared the Bible with them. We worshipped together, played together (we built a snowman and a snow unicorn). During our Bible study time, walls came down and we discussed really serious issues, such as teenage suicide and demon worship.

My last one-on-one time with camper “A” (just the two of us) proved to be a turning point. We walked down to the river and she quickly ran across a log to the other side. I did not want to go. The log was narrow, the river wide and freezing. I said a quick prayer and started out after her. I was having a difficult time. I called to her and asked for help. She turned around, ran back and crossed the log. She took my hand and helped me! I was astounded. She was not so cold and distant and unreachable as I thought! She helped me across the river and we spent time laughing at what a clod I was. I don’t know how God may use this, but we became closer. It is so wonderful to be a part of this ministry even though I may NEVER know the impact I’ve had GOD does! And what else matters.

Camp Alandale Stories- Winter Camp – January 27, 2017

It was a wintry night as the children arrived on the bus. All of us counselors ran out to welcome them—cheering and hugging each child. Then we escorted the rosy-cheeked middle schoolers into the lodge where a fire warmed their hearts and hands. Homemade chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven and of course hot chocolate heated their tummies.

The campers chose their counselors for the weekend by picking names from a bowl. I never cease to be amazed at how God places each counselor and camper together — just the right match!

This last weekend was another incredible story of God’s partnering because my camper turned out to be a WRITER! She had never really shared her stories with anyone. I talked her into sharing one with me and I was impressed. She is very gifted. Her writing contained great dialogue and excellent word pictures. And she writes Christian allegories, but did not realize it, which was even more amazing. So in addition to sharing Jesus with her, I encouraged her to continue to write and told her she was immensely talented. As I escorted her to the bus to return home, she told me she just wanted to be alone and cry. She had been so encouraged about her writing she wanted to digest it all. I was so pleased that the weekend touched her heart. It is so wonderful to influence these kids’ lives in a positive way.

If you are interested in helping out, we always need more staff, just go to the Camp Alandale web site: http://www.campalandale.org

Elizabeth-Islam to Christ! 2002 interview in Egypt after Sept. 11

I interviewed a woman who converted from Islam to Christianity. The following is her story. Her name has been changed.
In Egypt, there are few churches or Bible studies. Christians are persecuted for their faith.
“My name is Elizabeth and I was raised in a fundamental Muslim home. We had to pray five times a day to Allah. My Father beat us if we did not pray and sometimes for punishment we were not allowed to eat.
My father went to the Mosque to pray every day, even in bad weather. I asked him why. He replied, ‘Good deeds and works for Allah means blessings.’
When I was thirteen years old I began to wonder why the Prophet married so many women. In school I sat next to a Christian girl. We had been raised to hate Christians, but she was very nice. One day I peeked in her Bible and read that ‘Jesus went about doing good’. I began to compare Jesus to the Prophet. Jesus helped many women, but did not marry them. I asked my Father if I could read the Bible, but he became violent and beat me. Then, I asked my religion teacher at school why the Prophet married so many women and for the first time ever in school, I was beaten. I stopped asking questions.
I graduated from college and was offered a job with a nominal Christian attorney. He wanted a Muslim helper so he could get more business. I read the Christian books the attorney had in his office; books about the Crucifixion, the Trinity and other theological events. I discussed many questions I had with the attorney, but he would not answer them, in fact he threatened to fire me if I continued to read his books. I was afraid to read any more.
I went to the Sheik (Mosque leader) for some answers. He told me to read the Koran and fast for three days. I was already praying every day and I wore the customary veil for Muslim women. I read the Koran and stayed on the job with the attorney, but the old questions kept returning. I wrote down the contradictions, such as the position of women, killing and the violence. I read the thirteen parts of the Koran and took notes. I came to the conclusion that it was not a godly religion and I could not believe in the Koran. However, I did believe that the God of the Bible was with me. I asked God, “If you are here why don’t you present yourself?” I did not know how to pray to God, but I continued to talk to Him anyway. I read more Christian books, including the Bible. I began to see Jesus and knew he had to be God. (at this point she has made a decision for Christ). I provoked my Father into discussions about religion. All my Father did was beat me. He could not answer any of my questions. I experienced a lot of conflict as a Christian living in a Muslim home. I went to the Coptic Church but was not welcomed there because of terrorist activities. Also, the church was afraid of me, because I was from a well known Muslim family.
I spent six months asking God where to go. I thought about Abraham leaving his family. I felt I should leave home, but I had no friends, no shelter, no church and not much money. I knew it was a crazy decision, but I followed it anyway and fled my home at five o’clock in the morning. I was afraid my Father would find me and kill me. The Koran calls for fellow Muslims to do whatever it takes to bring a convert back to Islam. The church refused to take me in. I left at five in the morning and it was one o’clock the second morning before I found shelter. In Egypt it is not cultural for women to be alone, so I looked suspicious. I found a priest who helped me. I spent two months in hotels and Christian homes. However, when the family found out I was a Muslim convert, they threw me out because it is against the law in Egypt to shelter a convert. Finally, I found a group of converts and I am still with them. Three years ago my fundamentalist cousins kidnapped me. They kept me prisoner in a deserted apartment without food or water. They beat me and attempted to rape me to convert me back to Islam. When the cousin who guarded me fell asleep, I stole his keys and ran to the nearest train station. When I found out the train was full I went into the bathroom to pray. I went back to the ticket counter and was told that a seat was now available. I sold my ring for the fare and called my group leader to pick me up. What a miracle!
I still move every six months because I am hiding from my family. The Egyptian government will punish churches for hiding converts. Also State security knows about me and that is another reason I move all the time. I provide shelter for other Muslim women converts on the run and I counsel them to remain at home and be silent witness to the family. However, this creates a real problem if the family wants to arrange a Muslim marriage. Then the convert is forced to flee. I still call my sisters for family news and have given them all Bibles, but I have not talked with my Father.”
At the conclusion of the interview Elizabeth told me, “Return to America and tell them that Islam is not a religion of love, but violence. “She also told us that it is not a crime to beat your wife or your children in Egypt and Muslim women just accept this.

Susan Gail Swanson, author

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