I'm Not Taking This Rubber Band Off Until...

The shoes our team distributed in Peru last week were held together with thick rubber bands. After fitting a little boy or little girl with a new pair of sneakers, many of us simply put the accompanying rubber band around our wrist and moved on to the next child.

On the bus one day, my friend (and former orphan) Jesy pulled out a Sharpie and turned one of the rubber bands on my wrist into a bracelet. She wrote, "Tim - God Bless!" and included the date and a small picture of the Peruvian flag. I'm still wearing that bracelet.

The irony in all of this is that Jesy actually dreams of one day making real jewelry out of the silver that is so plentiful in Peru. She and her housemates at the Buckner International transitional home already have a business plan and budget lined out...all they need is the money to make it happen.

Spools of silver, jewelry-making tools, and packaging supplies will cost $15,000 up front. Then, the proceeds will be used to keep the business (and their home) going for many more former-orphans in the future. The ultimate goal is to provide for even more transitional houses as well. (All of this, of course, falls under the direction and leadership of the amazing staff of Buckner - Peru.)

Would you be able to help these girls start their very own jewelry-making business? If so, please email me or send a check made out to Buckner International to:

Tim Sinclair
PO Box 352
Mahomet, IL  61853

Just be sure to put "Peru-Jewelry Project" in the memo line. I'll be collecting all of the checks and then send them in bulk to Buckner.

This is a gigantic project, but I'm convinced that the next bracelet I wear from Jesy is not going to be made of rubber, but of silver.

She Didn't Look Like an Orphan...

Meet Jesy.

Last week I spent half an hour talking to her on one of our mission team's bus rides to an orphanage on the outskirts of Lima, Peru. Jesy only speaks a little English. I only speak a little Spanish. So, we had to hunt and peck for topics that we could clearly communicate with one another.

We learned each other's names. We chatted about our age and hometowns. We even managed to talk about our faith a little. It wasn't until the end of our trip though that Jesy said to me in broken English, "I used to be an orphan."

I don't know what I was expecting, but Jesy did not look like an orphan to me. It was hard to believe that (just a few short years ago) this bright, beautiful girl once lived behind the concrete walls and steel gate of an orphanage. But, as someone from the mission trip put it, the walls were not to keep bad people in...but to keep bad people out.

For most kids around the world, there is no transition between orphan and adult. Twenty-four hours is all that separates one side of the wall from the other. An 18th birthday at an orphanage isn't as much a celebration as a send-off. But, thanks to Buckner International, that wasn't true for Jesy.

Jesy is part of Buckner's transitional home in Peru along with half a dozen other young women. After leaving their respective orphanages, these girls get the opportunity to live, work, and study together - under the supervision of a mentor and live-in "house mother." Our team was invited to their home for a pizza party during the trip, and it was truly a remarkable place.

The problem (as it usually is with these types of things) is money. The Buckner team in Peru desperately wants to start more of these homes, but doesn't have the budget to do so. What they do have, however, is an amazing group of girls who are working hard to invest in their own futures.

Peru is known for silver, and Jesy and her housemates have the dream of one day starting their own jewelry-making business with it. Claudia Leon (the director of Buckner in Peru) has already made up a budget and business plan for the idea, and now she just needs $15,000 to get started. The money they earn from selling the jewelry would be used to financially help Jesy and the other girls, as well as fund more transitional homes in the future. Plus, the experience would teach valuable skills that will benefit these girls for years to come.

I am committed to raising this money, but I need your help. Right now we're at about $3,000, and I would love to send them a check very soon. Are you able to get involved? Any amount is helpful. If so, you can make a check out to: Buckner International. However, please put "Peru-Jewelry Project" in the memo line. Then mail it to:

Tim Sinclair
PO Box 352
Mahomet, IL  61853

I'll be collecting the checks and then sending them in bulk to Buckner.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. And, from Jesy, "Gracias."

The Most Important Blog I've Ever Written

Shortly after arriving in Lima, Peru last week, I made a sobering realization: I am not going to change the world. Subconsciously, I think I had grandiose plans of revitalizing poverty-stricken neighborhoods and rehabilitating soul-starved children by showing up for three hours with a pair of new shoes in my hand.

Obviously, I was wrong.

But, as I said in a blog from last week, "Sometimes it's about caring for someone's today, regardless of their someday." And our team did just that. We loved on kids as best we knew how...hopefully changing their lives - if only for a moment.

In the process of caring for the "today" of these kids, I asked a question of Claudia Leon - the director of Buckner International in Peru. I asked her what dreams and plans she had for the future of her ministry. And, without hesitation, she said, "I want more transitional homes."

Transitional homes help bridge the gap between an orphanage and the real world. They help abandoned or abused girls get an education, learn a skill, and develop healthy friendships before being sent out on their own. The girls in the picture above are part of Buckner's one and only transitional home in Lima, and it is an amazing place.

As Claudia and I discussed how to financially provide for more of these homes, she told me about a micro-business project she had been working on. Peru is known for silver, and Claudia dreams of the girls in her transitional homes one day making jewelry from it. The money they earn would be used to fund the home, and the skills they learn would be used to fund their lives.

When I asked what such a business would cost to start, Claudia said her bottom-line budget was $15,000, including tools, packaging supplies, and the silver itself. An added bonus is that the business would be financially self-sustaining, benefiting every girl who comes through that home in the future. Almost without thinking I told her, "There's no reason we can't find $15,000 for you to start this project."

So, that's what I'm doing. I'm reaching out to you to help me start a jewelry-making business in Lima, Peru that will change the future for potentially hundreds of girls who are transitioning from being an orphan to being an adult. Would you help? If you'd like to donate to the project, please send me an email here and I'll give you the details.

We might not be able to change the world...but we can certainly change a child's place in it.

The Other Side of the Door...

Sunday morning, just outside Lima, Peru, I found myself inside a orphanage for special needs boys. I have to admit, however, that it looked more like a prison to me. Ten foot walls surrounded the compound, bars covered the windows of the barracks, and several rather serious-looking security guards walked the area. With the exception of a small plot of land used for farming, the entire place was made of bricks and cement.

Though the staff at the Nino Jesus de Praga home does a great job with these sometimes-difficult boys, there's no denying that their concrete jungle of a home is a dreary, even sad, place. Few of us, left to our own devices, would choose to live there. I certainly wouldn't.

When our time with the boys was over, our team each grabbed a box lunch from the bus and were directed toward an exit near the back of the orphanage. As the door was opened for me by one of the security guards, my jaw fell. On the other side of the giant wall - not more than a hundred yards away - was the Pacific Ocean. I had been at Nino Jesus de Praga for three hours, and I had no idea that one of the most beautiful views in the world was so close.

While these particular children clearly needed the safety and security of their surroundings, I couldn't help but ask myself a few questions after walking through this "secret door." How often do I focus on the sad or depressing or scary stuff in my life, completely unaware that God has something amazing waiting for me right around the corner? How often do I wallow in my own, personal concrete jungle...totally naive of the beauty that awaits me on the back side of my fear or pain or rejection?

Jeremiah 29:11 promises us "a hope and a future." That means, no matter what you're going through today, no matter how dreary or sad or depressing your life appears to be, God has something remarkable waiting on the other side of it. It might take awhile. It might be hidden right now. It might not even be what you're expecting. But it's coming.

And when God opens a door, the view is guaranteed to be breathtaking.

The Most Poverty-Stricken Place I've Ever Been

"Everything looks like it's under construction, but I'm pretty sure that none of it is."

That was my first thought as our bus made its way up to the Pamplona district of Lima, Peru. Walls were half built. Roofs were unfinished. There were holes for windows with no glass in sight. The "homes" in Pamplona have been built into the side of the hills, and if one started to fall I'm quite sure that they all - like dominoes - would crumble in succession. It is hands down the most poverty-stricken place I have ever been to.

We regularly see parts of our world that have been ravaged by natural disasters on the news. We hear the stories of families that are trying to pick up the pieces of their lives that wind and rain have stolen. But these precious people in Lima aren't in the process of recovering from anything.

No hurricane or tornado ripped through Pamplona last month. No fire broke out or storm blew in. No earthquake cracked their foundations and toppled their walls. These conditions are a day-to-day reality, not the result of a one-time tragedy.

Maybe it's because this is my first day in Peru (or maybe it has something to do with me getting seven total hours of sleep in the last 66 hours), but I don't see this city-within-a-city changing because of our visit. With our help or without it, I don't see a revitalization of Pamplona in the near future. But you know what? That's okay.

Americans especially like to involve themselves in mission projects such as this one because (in two weeks or two years or two decades) we assume that our efforts will be "worth it." We enjoy seeing a "return." We like knowing that we had a hand in moving a situation from bad to good. Or at least bad to better.

But Hugo, the young boy who got new shoes from me today, will need another pair next year. Mariabella, the cutest five year-old girl ever, will not be able to afford her own crayons or paper anytime soon. The man I saw sitting in a pile of old newspapers, looking out over his community, will probably see a very similar sight next year and the year after and the year after.

How am I okay with that? Well, sometimes, just sometimes, life isn't about change or progress or transition. Sometimes it is about doing the right thing, regardless of whether or not there's a return in it. Sometimes it's about caring for someone's today regardless of their someday.

Whether or not their futures are any brighter, today was better for Hugo and Mariabella. And that's good enough for me.