When they tried to bounce the ball, it landed on one of the many jagged bumps in the dirt floor and careened toward the pile of corn laying against the wall. Jacks, a simple game that seemed appropriate to take as a gift. However when the trip coordinator told us that morning to, "Hold on, we are going for a ride," I had no idea what that meant.

Our bus had taken us to a project situated up the side of a mountain, but now it was time for a home-visit. So Amy and I climbed into the slam-packed pick-up for the last leg of the journey. It was a slow ascent, dodging ruts big enough to lose a small child.

Finally we arrived at the home of Delores. Her husband works down the mountain in Quito and can only come home occasionally. They have a few farm animals and a small struggling garden. And this is how she feeds her 8 children. The doorway into their home was so low that I had to duck and since I am only 5'2" tall, you know it was short. Even though it was August, there was a chill in the air, so I'm sure the limited opening helped keep the inside from being unbearably cold.


The floors were packed down sloped dirt that followed the contour of the mountainside. Along one wall was a stack of hominy corn and on the other was a pile of potatoes that reached the ceiling. This is there sustenance for the winter months ahead.

The children were neatly dressed in their hand-embroidered tops, which Delores sells at the market.

(That is LeAnn our fashion model)

When it came time to leave we gathered together in a circle to pray. I asked if there was anything specific we could pray for, expecting her to say 'another bed since we only have two' or 'warm blankets for the winter' or enough food to survive' but instead this was her reply, "Yes, please pray that I will raise my children to know and love the Lord with all their heart."

We indeed went for a ride that day, but not just a physical ride. Every emotion was jerked, every heart muscle was pounding, every nerve was raw when I experienced the true thrill ride of total trust in a God who sees. May those images never leave my mind.

Please watch this video

They answered, "We have everything we need."

"How can I make sure she doesn't become self-absorbed as she grows up?" she asked as we munched on warm chocolate chip cookies. My niece lives in Beverly Hills and is able to give her 4 year old daughter everything a little girl could want. And yet, she is keenly aware that when children receive 'things' without 'strings' they begin a life of self-centered discontentment.

Hollywood seems to be the magnified version of everyone's struggle with the 'I wants.' People in an effort to find 'happiness' reach for whatever they don't have, thinking that must be what is missing. But you don't have to travel to California to find this turmoil, look in your own backyard or better yet, in your own mirror. I work with a friend who is in the middle of a divorce after 40+ years and the focus is glaringly on self.

In America we are so spoiled we convince ourselves that our wants are really needs. And if we must suffer, someone else is to blame.

Last August I had the privilege of joining my Proverbs 31 Ministries sisters on a trip to Ecuador to visit the Compassion International projects. We came face-to-face with real poverty, real needs and real happiness. The 'Watch Video" link above takes you on a brief tour of our journey. Many moments will live etched in my memory, but two stand out as a glaring dispa'ity to life as we know it.

First, we visited a family with 3 children who lived in a block home, tin roof, dirt floors and one bed. When I asked the parents if they could have just one thing what would it be...they thought about it, discussed it, then said, "We have everything we need." WOW! Who in America would say that? Furthermore, I'm sure the response in our country would be, "Only one thing?" And yet, they had the love of their family and more importantly the love of a God who filled their desires.

Second, Jonathon a college student, was a sponsored child from a family of 8. He is studying to become a math teacher. When we asked him why he chose that path, he said, "The boys in my village drop out of school when they become freshmen to work and help support the family. I want them to know that if they continue on and learn math it can open many more doors in their work life. I also know that one day I will stand before God and he will ask me, 'What did you do with what I gave you?' I want to help change the reality in my own world." WOW! This young man had been given an opportunity for a different life and now he turns around and gives back.

So my answer to my niece, much like my advice to my friend at work was simple, go on mission trips and serve others. For when we serve, the focus shifts from self to selfless. It is only then that the family resemblance of Christ can be seen in our reflection. After all, how will we answer the question, "What did you do with what I gave you?"

It was the last day we would spend in Ecuador. After cramming so much into such a small span of time, my body was exhausted and my senses were strained. We had seen squalor conditions, extreme poverty and children longing for hope. We had laughed with them, cried with them and loved on them. My tear ducts felt drained.

Before the trip I had tucked a Spanish Bible into my suitcase with plans to give it to a program director. Each day I looked for it, but could never seem to find it. So on our last morning, I was surprised to find it in the bag of goodies I had packed for the children.

When we arrived at the inner-city program site, little Romer fixed his eyes on mine. He was dressed in a navy blue uniform sweater with his hair neatly combed. He could easily have been mistaken for a child from an American middle class family. But his eyes told the real story. My friend, Van speaks fluent Spanish and helped me to understand that Romer was one of many children in his family. He was 8 years old and loved this program because he was able to learn about Jesus. He was shivering and asked if he could sit on my lap. I held him as we watched the older children perform a worship song for us. I asked him if he had his own bible, he said no. I reached into my bag and pulled out the gift. “You do now,” I told him. On the inside cover I wrote: To Romer From Luann August 2007 Tiamo.

He looked at the bible, then looked at me for confirmation that it was really his. I shook my head yes and his deep brown eyes spilled over and a giant tear escaped. He grabbed my neck and cried, “Tiamo! Gracias!” Our tears flowed together down my cheek. My heart once again tore open and fresh love poured out. The unprocessed moment left my lips quivering and my senses exposed.

When was the last time I clutched the Word of God so tightly in my hands? When was the last time I clung to the pages as if they were my very life source? This young man taught me a lesson I have taken for granted. Cherish the Word more than the bread I eat.

“Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Matthew 4:4

Life-altering! Half of our Proverbs 31 team just returned from Ecuador with the Compassion International group. Can I truly describe the experience in mere words? No. But I will attempt to share moments that burn forever in my memory.

I must tell you, Compassion International is the program I've always longed to discover. For years we have worked with missions in our church, both inner-city and abroad. I often felt we were just placing a band-aid on a gaping wound. My husband and I would wonder if throwing a turkey at someone during Thanksgiving was really making a difference. Was there really any way to impact a single life forever? The answer is YES! I am a sold-out believer in this program now that I have seen it with my own eyes. I have witnessed the impact they make on a single life from birth through adulthood and it is mind-boggling! Let me attempt to relate my experience. It will take several entries to tell it. Our liason from Compassion gave me excellent advice: she said to prepare 3 separate responses for people who ask, "How was the trip?" First prepare a 30 second version for those who ask only to be nice, but really don't want to hear about it. Next prepare a 2 minute version for those who are truly interested, but don't have the time to listen. And finally prepare a 30 minute version for those who love you and truly want to know the impact the trip has made on your life. Any longer that 30 minutes and anyone might be overwhelmed. So I will endeavor to give you bite-sized remembrances.

Here are some names of children, mothers and survivors I hope never escape my recollection: Ties, Juanito, Johnny, Mary, Jonathon, Daniella, Paula, Delores, Romer, Steven, Justin and Darwin. Along with the incredible staff we had the honor of serving beside, Veronika, Omar, Robert, Sixto and Joy.

Saturday we traveled into the mountains from Quito to meet sponsored children and the wonderful couple running the Salvation Army church. The roads were not really roads, they were dirt trails with deep ravines and crater-sized holes. Our bus would dip and rock as the talented driver inched his way through the obstacle course. We stopped beside a fence lined with children. We noticed the director and his wife encouraging them to quickly get in place. As we stepped off the bus, we entered a new reality. Positioned on a steep hillside, this village was a mix of craggy rocks and squatters homes. And in the midst of it, the Salvation Army had a very modest block building with several extensions and a small playground.

The children lined up on each side of the walkway into the playground and took our hands to escort us into the building. Their little hands were chilly and rough and their faces seemed chapped from the harsh elements. Madelina and Jordan were my escorts. They were 5 and 7 years old. When we found our seat inside, both children jumped onto my lap and hugged my neck. The older children put on a lovely program for us and the staff showed us the records that are kept on each child's progress.

We divided up into groups and went with the children into their classrooms. We laughed, played and learned along side them. Their inquisitive eyes searched mine. It was if they were wondering why we cared for them enough to come.

It was time for lunch and the little kitchen was busy preparing the food. Our team served the children roast chicken, rice and vegetables. We then departed to visit individual homes.