Age: 18
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Thank God that I enjoy my new caregiver.
2. Pray that my family could become Christians someday.
3. Pray that God would help me with my temptations.

Age: 15
Support lacking: $60/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that my brothers would stop working in the drugs.
2. Pray that my family would accept Christ into their hearts someday.

Age: 12
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I would be a Godly example to my friends.
2. Pray that God would guide my future.
3. Pray that I would obey more.
4. Pray that I could be more like Christ.
5. Pray that I could be kind with others every day.
6. Pray that I would read my Bible more.

Age: 12
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that my family could come visit me more.
2. Pray that I could be kind with others.
3. Pray that I would become a Christian soon.
4. Pray that I wouldn't think bad thoughts.

Age: 10
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that my family could become Christians someday.
2. Pray that I would accept Christ someday. 

Age: 9
Support lacking: fully covered
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that my family would come visit me someday.
2. Pray that my family and I would become Christians.

Age: 8 
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Praise the Lord that Israel seems to have settled in at the orphanage.
2. Pray that he would continue to learn to obey. 

Age: 6 
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I would obey and behave for my caregivers.
2. Pray for my school.
3. Pray for my mom.
4. Pray for my brothers that were taken away from my mom.

Age: 6
Support lacking: fully covered
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I could obey.
2. Pray that I could learn stuff in school.

Age: 4
Support lacking: fully covered
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I could learn to walk.
2. Pray that I would learn to not make a lot of noise at night and wake up Rebecca.

Age: 3
Support lacking: fully covered
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my mom.
2. Pray that I can be a good boy for Jesus.

Age: 31
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my dad.

Age: 17 
Support lacking: $25/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I can be more patient with the little children.
2. Pray that I can make good decisions for God.

Age: 14
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I can be a girl for God's glory.

Age: 14
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that my father would become a Christian.

Age: 13
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for the decisions I need to make about living with my family.
2. Pray that I could be patient and obey well.

Age: 13
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I can be a Christian for God's glory.

Age: 11 
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray that I can be kind with others and not fight.
2. Pray for my dad.
3. Pray that I would become a Christian.

Age: 11
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my mother and family, that they could become Christians.
2. Pray that God would have His will in my life.
3. Pray that He would give me patience and wisdom.

Age: 10
Support lacking: $30/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my family, that they could become Christians and come visit me.
2. Pray that the people in Choix would become Christians.

Age: 9
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my mom.
1. Pray that I can be kind to others and not fight.

Age: 5 
Support lacking: $50/month
Prayer requests:
1. Pray for my baby sister.
2. Pray that I can have a good attitude.
3. Pray for my grandpa and grandma and uncles and aunts.

      Lenn and Debbie Miller and family moved down to Mexico in September, 2003, their desire to start an orphanage for needy children. After a year of language study, they moved to the town of Choix where Lenn started to look for some land. When the board decided on a property, the building project got under way and by the beginning of 2006, “Casa Hogar Luz de Esperanza” or “Light of Hope Orphanage” opened its doors to begin receiving in children.
     The Miller family continues to live at the orphanage with 6 single workers who care for the children. Each caregiver has their own "children" and acts as the "parent", while the desire is that the family presence will make it feel like a home, not an institution.

     As such matters go learning a language is a bit of a tricky thing. It involves many of those moments when you wish to crawl under a rock and come out a few days after people stop laughing at you. I have heard it said that you make a million mistakes learning a language so it is not easy for those who need to do it right the first time. 
     I think one of my most embarrassing moments came soon after getting here. I had been staying at Martin and Reina's home for about a week when I was invited to Reina's mother's house for supper. I enjoyed a wonderful fish soup, the like of which I have not had before. And so, at the conclusion of said meal my host came to clear my plate. I, being of sound judgment and trying to appreciate Mexican culture, attempted to tell her the food was very good. With as much inflection as I could deliver, I said that the food was "muy sucio." As she turned away, I realized my mistake. "Muy" means "very," and "sucio" means "dirty." Instead of thanking her for the very good food I had told her it was very dirty. Realizing my mistake, I quickly told her that her food was "muy sabroso" (very delicious). The joke has been on me for over a month now and I expect it to continue until a few more people have stayed with Martin’s.

     Boring? Dull? No, living in an orphanage around 42 people could never be dull! There are at least 5 different conversations going on at our potluck-size meal times, people scurrying in and out of the bustling kitchen hoping for a sample, and children with their batteries charged full of energy that love energetic games of soccer or tag. No, life is not boring around Light of Hope orphanage! There are 42 different personalities, 42 different likes and dislikes, 42 different looks, 42 different stories - 42 different people that God brought together to fulfill His plan in each person's life.
     One of the things I enjoy about being an MK is that there is pretty much a steady flow of people in and out of the orphanage, and I am privileged to get to know each one that passes through. I also enjoy spending time with the children at times, and trying to make them feel special, a thing that they have hardly ever felt. 
      Even though I enjoy living on the mission field, there are things that I still miss about the States. I still miss my extended family and spending time with them, and around Christmas time I miss bundling up against the snowy chill and going Christmas caroling in English with our home church. Even though I still miss different things back home, I am thankful that the Lord brought us to the place where He has us!

    Teaching school for the first time is an interesting experience. Include in that equation the fact that it is in a language I am just learning and it is even more challenging. The student has a question and you say, "Well, give me a minute while I read it and hope I can understand it and explain it well enough that you can understand it." 
     Each part of this process is an opportunity to learn new words and new ways to use words you thought you knew. It stretches your patience and your creativity as well, trying to keep short attention spans interested in something they didn't find interesting in the first place. We have been blessed with a school building which gives us a separate, quiet, place to study with less distractions. One of the things I would like to see is a teacher who knows the language well and would not have other responsibilities, giving him more time to prepare for class and also time to work with struggling students one-on-one. 
     Progress has been made on an apprenticeship program - one that would allow the older children a chance to work outside the orphanage to learn useful job skills and prepare them for life. This is exciting for me because it means they will have a way to support themselves when they leave and also gives them ways to prove their maturity to us and themselves. 
     Before I came to Mexico I had never tried to teach school and it had never interested me. While I still don't see it as something I want to pursue as a full time job I have enjoyed it and will remember it for a long time. Teaching definitely gives many opportunities to learn and be stretched.

     Difficulty is a part of life. Jesus said that “in this world, [we] would have trouble”, but the struggle seems more obvious here. We are dealing with precious, damaged souls and it’s hard. How does one deal with a child that does not respond to discipline? What about when the defiant, disobedient children have been abused and rejected? How does one keep from feeling overwhelmed, discouraged and frustrated at the magnitude of issues to deal with and work through? It’s easy to be worn down by the almost constant bickering, tattle-telling, and whining. 
     If I put myself in their shoes for a few moments it’s easier to understand at least in part, why they act the way they do. How would I respond if I was abused, sexually, physically, or both and then rejected by my parents and placed in an orphanage? How would I react in the days after my mom came to see me, if she hadn’t come for months and when she came, was carrying my new baby sister? Wouldn’t I wonder why my sister could stay with my mom and I couldn’t? Wouldn’t I say that I wanted a new caregiver if I was angry with the current one, especially if I had had four different caregivers in the past year? And wouldn’t I turn right around and call that same caregiver ‘mama’ when I wasn’t upset with her because I have such a deep longing to belong? Wouldn’t I get jealous for my caregiver when she relates to the other children because I’m so insecure and afraid to lose her? It’s no wonder they act the way they do, but how do I help them work through it and be victorious? What I’m realizing is that it is not so much about me. Actually, it has very little to do with me and everything to do with my Heavenly Father working in me and through me. 
     Do you know what you experience when a 6 year old wakes you in the middle of the night, fussy and uncooperative and like a fuse that’s ready to blow up in a fit of anger over the smallest detail? Whether or not she blows up, she’ll still cost you an hour or two of sleep that you can’t make up. Do you know what you experience when she does that every night for a week? You experience a wonderful thing called “the Grace of God.” You pass the day on His strength, and the verse “My grace is sufficient for you and my power is made perfect in weakness” becomes personal. 
     One thing I am learning and taking to heart is that it is through the difficulties that I experience the most growth. God uses the storms to perfect me, the fire to refine me and His firm touch to make, mold, and shape this piece of clay to reflect His glorious image. In that case, is it even right to ask him for things to go well? If it’s the difficulties that make me more like Him, I want to praise Him for them and allow Him to change me through them.

     A dedication to my ‘caballero’—you forever changed my life, opening that small window to the world that so many—just like you—live in. God will use you. Powerfully. I love you!
     The night has broken. Another beautiful day has been ushered in from behind the majestic grandeur of the rugged, breathtaking Mexican Mountains. Here and there a boulder emerges from the normal flow of the mountain range, and pierces the air, skyward. It’s as if it was saying, “Look at me, I dared to break loose from the normal roll, and plunge upward. Upward—to freedom!” It’s a splendid picture. Flawless. The breath of God himself has truly been breathed on this new day. This dissimilar, untainted day.
     My mind keeps drifting. I think of my calling and where I was placed by God to make a difference to his little ones. The horrific stories of brutal, evil things that have happened to little, innocent, lambs rupture my heart. I recall a recent conversation with one of my young lads, only 6 years old. His story pierces me. It’s the cry of many more like him. My mind recalls a recent conversation.
     “Did you know that my mom used to hate me?”
     “No, tell me, why did she hate you?”
     The reply was soft, cringed with a longing to belong, “I don’t know.”
     “How do you know she hated you?” I ventured to ask, not knowing if I wanted to know the secrets that lay deep inside his battered heart.
     He stopped, and looked deep into my eyes. His soft brown gaze was begging me to allow him to trust me.
     “She used to hit me,” he said, straightforward. “She did that whenever she was drunk or didn’t love me.”
     He stopped and held up his arm, as if in search for something.
    “See this?” he asked. “This is where she hit me with a nail. It really hurt.”
     My heart jumped. I asked myself, “What mother in her sane mind would want to hit her son with a nail?” I glanced down at his lower arm. My eyes fell to where he was pointing. It was there. Small but profound. It lay nestled in his flesh, a scar that would be there for a lifetime, a scar that would forever remind him of his mother who hit him with a nail because she was drunk.
     My thoughts were interrupted by his soft voice. “Y sabes que mas?” (And do you know what else?)
     Wait, was he just suggesting there was more? How much could a child take? My eyes met his soft, brown gaze. “Que mas?” (What more?) I asked, hiding the flood of emotions that wanted to overtake me.
     His reply was prompt and without hesitation. “She used to stand on top of me and then she would hit me again.”
     On top of you? But you’re only a six year old boy. Absolutely appalling. My mind was dazed.
     Before I had time to reply he continued. “I told my grandma that she has to find a new mommy and daddy for me. I didn’t want to live with my mom.”
     And then he stopped, and his love sick eyes pierced right through my hard, pathetically, selfish heart. He stole his arms around my neck, giving me a soft hug, and then skipped off to play with his matchbox cars and lego blocks, just as nothing unusual had just happened. But it had.
     I stayed glued to the stool I sat on. My thoughts drifted to a former time when he told me of his father, a man he said that was taken away by the Mexican soldiers to jail. He said they took him to jail for 10,002 days. A light grin tugged at my lips as I recalled the random number that sounded good to his hearing. He ended the story as he stated with confidence, “The soldiers are my friends. They took my daddy away.”
     My heart was torn—laced with anger at the stupid, self-righteous person I had made myself. He had more happen to him in his six years of living than any human should ever have happen to them in their lifetime.
     Was I finally beginning to understand? Was it only now beginning to make sense? Love has been shattered. Distorted to a pathetic form of human pleasure. Parents hate their own children. Children want freedom from the ones they truly long to love. It’s wrong. Unjust. Loathsome. Full of the work of the devil himself—the father of lies, and the ultimate problem, sin.
     My gaze returns to the mountains again. I gaze at the rugged peaks that plunge skyward in an outward rebellion to the normal flow, determined to stand out and find freedom—somewhere—up there. In the foreground a glimpse of red snatches my attention. It’s the bird, a flaming red bird, streaked with black. He sits there every morning. Stunning. A vivid reminder to me that the hand of the Creator has, without a doubt touched this day with a pure, clean love.
     I smile and turn to go inside. I think of my ‘son’, the one whom God himself, without a doubt, sent my way. A rush of adrenaline pumps through my veins as I think of the fact that the story of this young lad doesn’t end here. In fact it’s only a beginning. Redemption is a process, a beautiful transformation from death to life, from lies to truth. That’s why I love my calling here. Not only has HE called me to be a channel of healing, but through my ministry, day in and day out, HE is redeeming me, allowing me to see my own wretchedness in and of myself. But he doesn’t stop there. HE shows me the beauty of redemption and healing in HIM. The cross. HIS blood. My heart can do nothing more than eternally praise HIM.
     This is only one child’s story, but it’s one. A sense of responsibility lays on my heart as I think of showing him true freedom, and helping him find healing from his hurt—his haunting past. And now the giant question looms before me: “Will I live my life in such a way, where tomorrow doesn’t matter?” “Will I dare to live my life to the extent of losing it for the sake of helping one person find true life?”
     Jesus words echo in my ears, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father is this: to visit the orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” James 1:27