Sisters have been on my mind a lot lately. I know two older sisters here in Guatemala, never been married…buying one cinder block at a time and praying for three years that some one would build them a house, and we have teams helping to build a house for them. I love these ladies.

Then the other day I met 2 more sisters, 15 and 17. They live alone since both their parents died. They live in a 1/2 finished block house with no bathroom ( they use their aunt’s bathroom) and a piece of lamana leaning up against the wall as a make shift roof to cover the open flame they cook over. They have a bedroom, the only real room in the house, with a small, old bed that they share.

We took the young sisters up to see the older sisters. The older sisters have Jesus, and a house. The younger girls have neither. I can offer them Jesus but I can’t build them a house because they aren’t the official owners of the land. I stood and cried, my heart breaking, as I talked with the older sisters about the younger sisters.

Tears that I could not live how they live, tears that they don’t know Jesus, tears that I dont kow how to fix their physical living situation, tears that God led my Katey to meet the older sister, tears that my kids don’t have to live that way, tears that these young girls do. Tears that I didn’t take them home with me, and more tears that they probably would not have come. So many tears.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalm 34:18