A Different Kind of Poor

Over the years of working as a missionary in different countries, I have heard a variety of opinions about what I do. The majority are positive, supportive, kind. But there is one belief, one mentality that seems to have infiltrated every culture. It is so common that there are catchy sayings that go with it.... Continue Reading →

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Being Other

I'm white. I grew up in a predominantly white town and attended a predominantly white grade school. I graduated from a predominantly white university and settled into a predominantly white job. But then one day, that changed. The whiteness around me began to fade away and turn to tan, to brown. I was suddenly different,... Continue Reading →

Bogotá, Colombia

"Do you want to move to Colombia?" he asked. "No," I said, "But isn't that the point?" And I looked around me. At my little house and my perfect kitchen. Micah's nursery and my paintings hanging on the wall. My own little America. I had created this place. Little by little, year after year. Until... Continue Reading →

Let Them Be Kids

7/31/2013 When he was 14-years-old, he joined a gang. He started drinking and before he knew it, alcohol was served with every meal. Drugs came next. Marijuana first. Cocaine following close behind. He only injected once. "Muy rico," he said. But it hurt. By the time he was 16 he had joined a second gang.... Continue Reading →

This Is Not My Home

I was born in Florida, grew up in Ohio, went to college in Maine, and I now live in Guatemala. As a child, I always wanted a "home." A place with my hand prints in the sidewalk out front and my height tracked on the wall in the kitchen. I once sat down with my... Continue Reading →

Man of the House

“If you could be anything in the world, what would it be?” I asked, and I smiled as he began to tell me about the recipes he had invented, the hours he had spent in the kitchen watching his grandmother cook. “So why don’t you become a chef?” I said enthusiastically, and I watched the... Continue Reading →

What Rambo Won’t Tell You

I had no idea what I was getting myself into when God called me to become a missionary. I had a slightly skewed view brought on by the classic film Rambo and a savior complex after reading countless books and articles of third world countries. But I never realized that within that one word, wrapped... Continue Reading →

This is Enough

Getting to Rio Dulce is no easy feat. It takes four busses, a taxi, a lot of walking, and eight hours to get to the missionary house that our church provides for us. The shower has only cold water so we heat water on the stove and bathe out of buckets during the winter months.... Continue Reading →

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