So…I’m really sorry about the lack of updates lately. I’ve been trying to blog but I just can’t seem to get anything out. It’s bothering me and has been for a long time now…because I didn’t think I’d struggle with that this early on. The main concern is that the blog will turn out to be a hundred pages long; there’s so much I want to write about. So much.

But I can blog about what happened recently. I’m pretty sure I can anyway.

It happened the day after my second night at the hospital with my teammate Keryn. She had to have surgery – if you want the details, you can read more about that HERE. She’s recovering now, but we were rotating out to make sure people are with her all the time. I got up in the morning so I could join the rest of the group in ministry today (I’ve missed 2 days of ministry) and the day began. We spent the better part of the day at the orphanage, and I spent the better part of that with Julius Caesar.

Yes, there’s a Julius Caesar here.

Let me tell you about Julius.

He’s 10. He’s lived at the orphanage his whole life. He has cerebral palsy and autism. And he is absolutely beautiful.

I first saw him during our first trip to the orphanage (the one and only in Puerto Barrios). We were in the main room with the kids, and I happened to glance over to the adjacent room and saw a little boy sitting in a wheelchair that was tied to the wall with some kind of rope. I spent some time with him that day. Our second visit was a few days ago, and we arrived at the orphanage a few minutes before the caretakers got there. Julius was sitting in his wheelchair, tied to the wall, restrained with strips of dirty cloths that tore in to his fragile skin. And I knew it was for his safety; with no one watching him overnight he could really hurt himself…but it broke my heart. I wanted to take him away from that place. Back in the states, there’s no way he’d be tied to his wheelchair – or the wall for that matter – like that. Back in the states, an orphanage doesn’t leave the kids alone overnight.

But we’re not in the states.

In the course of the night, it had rained and he was soaking wet (he was tied to a wall that had some open windows above him). Besides that, he’d gone to the bathroom right there in his wheelchair – and seeing him like that; I had to fight back tears. We (Nikki, Michael and I) weren’t allowed to untie him; we had to wait for the lady who takes care of him, so we sat there with him, rubbed his back and talked to him. We believe that he can understand us, even in english, mainly because we believe God can do that and it seems more than likely through his reactions when we say certain things.

                           And here is the story I wanted to share.

It should be short; it’s simple…
but I’m learning that sometimes the most
simplest things of life turn out to be the most beautiful.
At one point while we were sitting there with Julius, Michael stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him with his hands over Julius’ chest. If I could freeze that picture in my mind and keep it forever, I would. Julius was calm and even cracked a smile with Michael there holding him. And for an instant I didn’t see a North American World Racer and a severely disabled 10 year old Guatemalan boy. For a moment I didn’t see rags and scarred wrists from restraints and soiled clothes or a wheelchair.
For a moment, I saw a father embracing his son.

His son whom He loves very much.

It didn’t matter that Julius was dirty and damp from the rain. It didn’t matter that he didn’t smell good. It didn’t matter that Julius couldn’t say anything. Michael loves that little boy. Maybe Michael didn’t realize it, but I got the distinct feeling that in that moment, Michael’s arms were the arms of a father to Julius. And I realized that it’s just another piece of what home will truly look like.

It is in the arms of the Father that we find
rest. Home will be a place where no one’s ever sick…
where there are no babies dying of HIV/AIDS 
and no children chained in disabilities. It’ll be a
place where no parent will sell their children
so that they themselves won’t starve. It’ll be a
place where broken families don’t exist; abuse
and neglect don’t exist; injustice will cease to exist.
 
Home
                                                                        will be a place of Life. 
                                                                                    a place of redemption
                                                                                    a place of perfection.
                                                                                             grace. overwhelming joy.

I had a dream about Julius after the first day I met him. The details of the dream are pretty fuzzy, but I remember the main parts – he was much older, probably in his 50’s or so, had graying hair, and was praising God. I remember it was night and he was talking to me and some other people…God had healed him, and he was using his untrapped life to glorify Him. I had the sense that when Julius opened his mouth, all that came out were words that glorified God. That’s all I can remember. And dreams can always be dismissed as “just a dream”, but I’m not the only one who’s had a dream about him. A few other Racers here have – either dreams or visions – and in all of them, our little Julius Caesar is walking normal, talking, and praising God.

I rarely have dreams that I remember.
So when I do remember them, I figure
they’re important, and I take them pretty seriously.

I believe God is healing the Julius Caesar of Puerto Barrios. I don’t know if I’ll see it or not. I don’t know when it’ll happen or where, but God’s doing something big with that little boy.

When he smiles and when he’s happy and laughing, I see more than joy in his face. I see a glimpse of heaven. 
I see a glimpse of Home.