Category Archives: Children in Shadow of His Wings

The President is Coming?

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My relaxed evening came to an abrupt end when Carina, the school director, called. The conversation contained a combination of excitement and panic, stirring the same emotions in me.

“The president is coming here to Monjas? You mean the president of Guatemala?” I asked as I rose from the chair and started pacing.

“Yes, Mama Carroll, it is President Alvaro Colom, and he is coming in the morning for a visit to Monjas,” replied Carina. “The school superintendent just called to give me the information, and we have been ordered to have our girls do their gymnastics performance for him. I repeat, he ordered the girls to perform. He didn’t ask if we could. We need to be at Central Park by eight in the morning, ready to go.”

After some discussion, Carina accepted the responsibility of getting all of the kids to the appointed place. We didn’t want them to miss the opportunity to meet President Colom nor get on the bad side of the school superintendent. I remembered the excitement of the First Lady’s coming to Shadow of His Wings Orphanage, and now the president of Guatemala was arriving.

Flintstone PresentationThe month before this, the girls had won first place doing a gymnastic rendition of the Flintstones at the Department (State) level competition in Jalapa. From there, they went to Guatemala City for the National competition and took first place. The thrill of this honor for these children could not be summed up in a few words. To go from a condition of being abused to having hundreds of fans cheering you on resonated in all of our hearts.

When we returned from the Capital with the first-place trophy, we met a line of cars waiting to follow us into Monjas. People held signs of congratulations while standing by the highway, cheering the girls for a first-time achievement in this town. The excitement level radiated from the bus as the girls chanted, “Libertad, Libertad, Libertad!” The parade of cars behind the bus and the horns honking had people lining the streets waving. This was a thrill of a lifetime, and now the girls would perform for President Colom and add to that list.

By eight o’clock the next day, we had everyone from JPoLA waiting for the important guest at Central Park. The kids tittered and giggled in nervous anticipation of doing their gymnastics routine for the president. I had things flying around in my stomach, and I wasn’t even performing.

We talked amongst ourselves and decided that President Colom would come by helicopter, so our ears tuned in to any similar sounds. People gathered and waited, a common practice here where time doesn’t dictate when activities will begin. Restlessness became evident, and even the ice cream boy with his little cart quit ringing his bell. Finally, the mayor announced that the president would not be coming. However, he asked that the girls perform for those present. The girls loved to perform, and their disappointment didn’t change their enthusiasm. The pride I felt for them stretched my heart a little more, as I watched them go through the routine.

We waited through some speeches and then heard a helicopter. The mayor announced that a special visitor did come, the National Director of Education, and he asked the girls to repeat their routine for the director. Afterwards, the director mingled with the girls, asking about their educational experiences. Then he took a group photo with them. In their eyes, his personal interest captured their attention, and it didn’t matter that the president didn’t make it to Monjas.

I also had the opportunity to visit with the director, who spoke English, making it much easier to express the concerns I had for the education of the older girls in Monjas. I explained about the limited opportunities for careers in our area. He told me that he’d help with whatever he could, just give him a call. He demonstrated himself as someone on the same team for the same cause. We went from the president is coming to no he isn’t, but the Lord provided a more valuable connection for the needs of the Shadow kids.

Satanic Victim

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The director of the school brought Mayra* into my office and shared the dramatic events from earlier that day. I sat up in my chair, fully focused on the director. Having dealt with similar situations in the past, I knew that correct counseling was crucial. I didn’t have any answers, but I knew Who did, and my prayers ascended in quick succession, asking the Lord to give us understanding and wisdom in dealing with this satanic victim.

“Mayra started talking in a deep raspy voice using filthy words. We found a note she wrote covered with satanic symbols and words denouncing God. While she demonically manifested, the other children charged out of the classroom. Raul and I calmed them down and asked if they would help pray for her so we grouped around Mayra and prayed. Afterward, she sat down like a limp dishrag. Please talk to her.” The director then left the office.

I focused on our newest girl, wondering where to start in helping her. I knew some of her history based on the report from the social worker, and I grieved because of the pain this child had endured. This terrified girl told her house parents that she witnessed the death of three small girls during satanic rituals, and she had suffered sexual abuse from her pastor. Because of her behavior and demeanor, her presence in the orphanage caused fear in the children and some adults. They felt like they lived with the enemy and had to be constantly on alert. Lord, I need you like never before to reach this child. Please guide my thoughts and words.

I stared into Mayra’s dull dark eyes and told her that we at Shadow of His Wings believed in the Lord Jesus Christ and that He gave us authority over the demonic. She tossed her head and replied, “No, there isn’t a God.”

“Why do you say there isn’t a God?”

“Because there is no evidence to see,” she replied.

I flipped on the switch for the ceiling fan, and we both watched it gain momentum as it spun. “What is making that fan turn?” I inquired.

After her response of “I don’t know,” I proceeded to tell her how electricity worked. “We can’t see it, but we can see its effects. We can’t see God, but we can see His impact upon this world in many ways. Look outside at the trees, flowers, birds, and mountains. We can see God’s handiwork all around us. Do you know who Jesus is?” She shook her head no. I then asked if I could pray for her, but again she said no.

“That’s okay Mayra. We are here to help you, to love you, and to protect you. We won’t let anything hurt you. You are a special creation of God’s, and have a divine destiny designed by Him for your life now and for eternity. The devil is trying to keep you from that plan. We’ll talk about all of this at a later time. Do you want to know about truth and what is real?”

Stuck in her negativism, her reply didn’t surprise me. I continued, “We all want to know the truth. We don’t like lies, and I believe that you seek truth also. The devil doesn’t want you to know these things, because then he would have to leave.”

I saw her shudder as she told me about a man, dressed in red, who follows her around. “Can I pray for you, Mayra, so you don’t have to see him anymore?” Her answer remained the same—no.

Before she left, I hugged her tightly, and she began to cry. “Mayra, we are going to do everything possible to help you.” I felt her respond to my hug, and hope filled me. I knew the love of the Lord would be the key to winning her heart.

The next day, I visited the school to explain about the battle we faced for Mayra. I entered the classroom and saw her sitting calmly next to the director. A teacher began reading Scripture, and immediately Mayra’s hands covered her ears. After the Scripture, I gave a sermonette about the victory we have over the enemy’s tactics through the Lord Jesus Christ. As believers, we are responsible for setting the captives free. Victims need to know God’s pure love, which comes through us. I covered a lot of areas and came back to the fact that we have God-given authority over the enemy.

Later in the afternoon, while the children were in class, I went to her casita. Her house parents and I prayed over her bedroom, her bed, her clothes, and her personal items. I knew she would be won by love, and we declared it would penetrate her body, soul, and spirit. Mayra did respond to our prayers, and the reports held a promise of a calmer and happier girl, but her story continued.

Due to the sexual abuse, Mayra started bleeding from her rectum, and the doctor told us she needed hernia surgery. We went to a small private hospital in Jalapa for the operation. A smiling, quiet girl came out of the anesthesia with little pain. Pleased with the success, the doctor informed us that she could go home the next morning. Not wanting her to be alone, I stayed the night on the other bed in her room. I stared at the ceiling and thanked God for the significant changes we saw in this beautiful child.

We made plans for her to stay at my house for a week while her body healed. During this time I had the opportunity to get better acquainted with Mayra. During our chats, she confessed that she wanted to remain at Shadow of His Wings. In time, and with the input of many people at the orphanage, she accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior, denouncing all of her past involvement in the occult. Healing and transformation began occurring in this satanic victim. She found the path the Lord had for her walking in peace and love.

*Name has been changed.

My Security Team

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IMG_2782Unfamiliar with many of the traditions and customs of Monjas, I found myself in a situation that made me feel like I followed an unlit path. A lady I had befriended asked me to attend the fifteenth birthday party for her daughter. I knew this celebration took precedent over many others, and young girls looked forward to their “Cinderella” day. Because of its importance to the family, I wanted to be there and gladly accepted the invitation.

Uncertain about being alone in the Spanish community, I called for reinforcements. “Girls, I’d like to have you come to the celebration with me, and please help me with anything I don’t understand. I’m counting on you.”

“No problem, Mama Carroll. We will be there for you,” chorused the three older girls.

The party started out at the church and looked like a wedding. Cari* wore a gorgeous dress that could have passed for a wedding gown, except for the beautiful blue color. She had ten attendants wearing matching formals. It amazed me how elaborate the decorations and flower arrangements looked. We had fifteenth birthday parties for the girls in the orphanage, but this one surpassed what we did.

I thought I would be an honored guest at the party but soon found out that I represented one of four “patrinas” (godmothers). What had I gotten myself into? I put on my everything-is-calm face and determined I could go through this with peace and grace. I had my “team” with me to help with the language and advise me of what I needed to do. However, I found myself in a special section with other godmothers, and my girls sat across the room watching me closely. My heart rate accelerated as I focused on the three ladies, ready to copy whatever they did. I made it through the program, the congratulations, and the hundreds of photographs. All went well until the celebration moved to the town salon for the dinner and last part of the celebration.

Again, I found myself sitting at the family’s table with my girls on the other side of the room. I’m sure they saw my frantic looks. They tried to move closer to where I sat, but someone ushered them back to the same table. After the meal, the emcee came over to the table and asked me to share some of my thoughts, and he would not take “no” for an answer. With his insistence, all thoughts fled my mind—Spanish and English. Lord, I need you to guide me through this. It’s important to these people, and I don’t know what to say. The girls watched for a signal from me to come and help, but I mustered up a smile and nodded to them that I’d make it through this. To this day, I do not know what I said to the hundreds of people in the salon that night.

After the meal, people mingled in the room chatting with various friends and family. The girls came over to my table, and we agreed we would slip out the door. Just as we reached the outside, two men approached me. One of them spoke English and said that his friend wanted me to speak to him in English. Willing to oblige this request, we talked Spanglish for a few minutes.

Just as they departed, I noticed all three girls had surrounded me. Miriam had a large Pepsi bottle in her hand, holding it in a threatening manner. Sandy had a smaller bottle of water ready to use as a weapon. Irma’s hands were fists ready to strike at any moment. When they saw me observing them, Miriam said, “Don’t worry, Mama Carroll. We are protecting you.” The seriousness of their actions made me realize how they had grown up in a country where they needed to be on alert at all times. We protected them at Shadow of His Wings, and they were protecting me outside the walls of the orphanage. I realized I had my own personal security team during this birthday celebration.

*Name has been changed.

Biologically Related Strangers

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Within two weeks of the court audience, the house parents came to me saying that the two recently reunited sisters would not talk to each other. They wouldn’t respond except to walk away with their noses in the air. Carmin* didn’t provoke negative action, but out of loyalty, most of the girls sided with Vanesa.* I knew intervention would be needed in this delicate situation but was not sure what. I told the house parents that I’d visit with each girl to find out what could be done to help them. I discouraged the idea of discipline, because forcing a relationship would not bring the desired results. Love needed time to bloom.

“Hey, Carmin, how are you doing? It’s been what, two weeks since you joined us? Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked, hoping to open the door to her feelings.

“It’s okay,” she replied, but her downcast eyes didn’t convince me of this. She scooped out some more dirt from the flowerbed she was working in.

“Are you adding some more plants?” I asked, looking at the order of the new plants. I was impressed. She knew what she was doing.

“Yes, there aren’t enough plants in this part.” She huffed as she took out another shovelful of dirt.

“Your house parents are troubled about your relationship with your sister. I need to have you tell me what you think is happening.”

“Mama Carroll, she won’t talk to me. I try to be nice to her and help her, but she pushes me away and won’t talk.”

“Carman, you have entered Vanesa’s territory, and to her, you are a stranger. It will take time for her to accept you as her older sister. She told me there isn’t any memory of you in the past, so it is as if she just met you for the first time. I can see how patient you have been, and I thank you for that and for not getting into verbal confrontations with her.”

Later, I talked to Vanesa. “Do you feel like an intruder moved into your home?”  I asked. Looking up with a half-smile, she shook her head yes. “I’m sure it feels that way, but think of how you would feel if you finally found the sister you loved and had taken care of and, for no reason, she wouldn’t accept you.”

Vanesa’s head went back down to avoid looking at me, while her fingers followed the creases in her skirt. Trying to reach down inside of her, I quietly asked, “Vanesa, are you afraid that she will treat you badly?”

The silence seemed to stretch for minutes before she said, “I don’t know why I don’t want to talk to her.”

IMG_5954  “Vanesa, you are already accepted as part of the Shadow family, and that’s not going to change. Carmin gave up the family she knew to come live with you. Mi Amor, how about you respond to Carmin as you would anyone else in the orphanage, as a friend, being nice and smiling. Let’s see where the relationship goes from there. You know the Lord will help you with this. Let’s ask Him now.” We prayed, and I let her leave the office.

The Shadow team took opportunities to pray and encourage these two. A couple months later, I saw these two biologically related strangers standing together laughing. It was a photo moment, and I didn’t have a camera! Thank you, Lord, for your goodness and love. I saw peace and happiness on their relaxed faces as they shared a special moment together. They finally found each other, and a relationship began to bud. All of us at the Project rejoiced to see the beginning of God’s plan for Carmin and Vanesa coming together.

*Names have been changed.