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  • ivanildotrindade 6:02 am on November 2, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: hope, hope-giver, paradise, reacue work in thailand, rescue from sexual abuse   

    Two hours in paradise 

    In the history of humanity there can’t be an action that approximates us mere mortals more to Almighty God than that of taking a life that was discarded and rejected and giving it hope for now and eternity.

    Now hope is a perilous commodity. You can’t give if you don’t got it and you can’t get it if it’s not given to you. Hope means to rise above one’s predictable outcome. That necessitates a hope-giver, something outside of ourselves and much bigger than our predicament. Hope does not happen by osmosis. But when hopes takes, it spreads like wild fires.

    I was in the zone of the Creator last night when I sat down with a group of 8 children in the G.R.O.W. home, a ministry I started with the help of some friends less than three years ago in Chiang Mai. What my wife and I got to witness was glorious, it was as if we were temporarily lifted from the earthly realms and transported to the land where dreams can leave your head and become real.

    The children in the G.R.O.W. home have been rescued from a life that had only one thing for certain – abuse, day in and day out. Different types of abuses, all rooted in poverty, moral decline, selfishness and sexual exploits. The basest of depravity seems to have made a dwelling in this part of the world, but that house is being destroyed brick by brick. 

    For about an hour they sang, they spoke warm words of welcome, they laughed, they danced, and to top it all off, they surprised me with an early ice cream Birthday cake. I looked around and saw the faces of angels but as I kept looking I was reminded that just a little while ago they were innocent victims in the devil’s workshop.

    No more nightmares. No more long nights of worries. No more running away only to be caught again by the hands of evildoers. No more tears running down scared little faces and hitting the spots where the open sores refused to heal. They were not in heaven, but it was close.

    I felt energized, as close to how God feels as I will ever feel; ready to take on the worst offender, and thankful for the joy to be around these children, even for a brief couple of hours.

    And my hope-giver, in case you’ve missed it, is the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. 

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

  • ivanildotrindade 9:01 pm on September 8, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , hope, ,   

    Though dead, he yet speaks 

    Most of my readers probably don’t know this, but I have another son besides Joshua. I say I have because I do believe in the immortality of the soul. Caleb would be 23 this October. My first male child, he lived too little but taught me so much with his short life.

    My son was born with a lung deficiency and the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck didn’t help matters. He lived in the warm womb of his loving mother then moved to the cold womb of an incubator. A few days was all he had.

    I was out-of-state when my wife went into labor. By the time I heard the news he was already too ill. I went to the airline to buy tickets so I could be with my family and while there I met a college roommate who had come back to our hometown to be at the funeral of his teenage brother who had succumbed to cancer. Little did I know that in a few days I was going to bury my son. I was absolutely certain that my son was going to be okay. After all, I believed in God, I was serving Him and I erroneously had it on the back of my mind that these things didn’t happen to people like me.

    I gave my friend my condolences and never once mentioned that I was going to travel to see my sick son who had just been born. Part of the reason was that I didn’t know how serious his condition was. The other part was simply confidence that God would not let me down.

    I arrived in the hospital and saw my son first from a distance, then from so close I could almost touch him. He had a sweet face, peaceful, almost oblivious to everything happening around him. He had four medical specialists taking care of him. His family was surrounding him with love and prayers were being offered by everyone. Next to him was a boy who never stopped crying. He had the lungs of a soccer announcer screaming “goooooollllllll!” Nobody paid attention to him. Not a one. Not even his mom. I learned later she was a 16-year-old who delivered him and fled the hospital.

    You can’t miss the irony: on one corner, the baby everyone wants, surrounded by love and care, but fighting for his life with his every breath; on the other, the baby no one wants, living life fully and annoying everyone with his every breath. In the end the one with the collapsed lung died and the one whose heart would one day be broken lived.

    The grief that followed my son’s death was the most intense feeling I ever had in my life. But it was also the time I felt most loved by people in our church. Out of utter darkness came the brightest light. And with every new day hope was restored brick by brick. I never lost my faith in God and never once blamed Him for taking my son.

    Sometimes I feel the breeze on my face when I am driving my car with the windows down. For some reason I think of Caleb in those times and tears come down my face. I think of his beautiful face and the smile he would give his mom when she got close to him and talked to him. My son recognized his mom’s voice and his smile was love displayed in soft strokes.

    My son never lived to consciously teach me anything, but his short life and swift going taught me that there is no depth of suffering in this world that can’t be overcome with the hope that we have in Christ. And I am glad I found the way and keep finding the way every day out of the mess which I tend to make around me from time to time.

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

    • ivanildotrindade 10:29 pm on September 9, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      I checked your blog, Bonnie, and was very touched by it. God’s peace to you and blessings in all you do. Thanks.

    • Rebecca Carney - One Woman's Perspective 11:07 am on September 13, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      “You can’t miss the irony: on one corner, the baby everyone wants, surrounded by love and care, but fighting for his life with his every breath; on the other, the baby no one wants, living life fully and annoying everyone with his every breath. In the end the one with the collapsed lung died and the one whose heart would one day be broken lived.”

      You are right…sometimes the irony is hard to miss…

  • ivanildotrindade 4:54 pm on August 6, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , hope, psalm 42. 43   

    The short diary of a depressed soul 

    I’ve come to the conclusion that Psalm 42 and 43 (originally only one song) are a short diary of someone who was dealing with severe depression. The writer kept asking throughout the song, “why am I so deeply sad?” Even though he points out that enemies are taunting him, they don’t seem to be the cause of his sadness. His deep sorrow is for no apparent reason. It’s must be something deeper, way more than he can explain.

    Three thousand years ago no one knew that depression existed and there was no Prozac around, so all he could say was that his soul was “downcast” and he was so “disturbed” deep down in the most intimate recesses of his heart. He says his tears had been his “food” day and night. Have you ever been there?

    I have, a couple of times in my life, and for no apparent reason. Those times all I wanted to do was to lie on my bed in a fetal position, covered from head to toe, under the darkness of my bedroom, never to be awaken again…

    I wish I knew then what I know now. The song writer puts it well: 1. He describes his condition the way it is, no sugar coating it, no trying to deny it. When you are miserable, it is not good to pretend like everything is peachy. 2. He remembers how it used to be in the past. Past memories of glorious times with God can revive the soul. Of course, past memories can also make things worse. You have to decide which memories to harvest. 3. Finally, he looks to the future and confidently says, “Things will be turned around and I will experience joy again.”

    Obviously, this was only possible because He had hope in the living God, as he calls his God. Without that, I probably wouldn’t be able to get up from my bed, Prozac or not.

    But I am glad I saw the light of God in His Son at the end of the tunnel.

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

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