Madness or Mercy? The Relentless Work to Reach Abandoned Kids

My name is Brendan, an American teacher working in Honduras since 2021. I am a friend and former co-worker of Michael. We met over a year ago and my friendship with him has given me greater insight into the realities of life in Honduras. 

While on the surface Honduras is a colorful, vibrant place full of warm people and a rich cultural heritage, what is not seen even by many locals is the heartbreaking injustice hiding in plain sight: dozens of children as young as eight years old are abandoned, neglected, starving and addicted to drugs - typically crack cocaine. Most of them are illiterate and have no viable way out of this lifestyle.

Until I met Michael I was not aware that these children had these specific problems. I knew they were poor, but was ignorant to their home life and substance abuse problems. This changed when I started spending more time with Michael and bore witness to his outreach in the community.

In the past year I've served as Michael's translator and sanity check, as he tries to help kids who live on the street. And I need to tell you: people have no idea how hard this is.

Some folks might think this work is simple. You talk to a homeless kid, ask if they want to get off the streets, of course they say yes, they tell you where to find mom for her signature, and off you go.

That is a fantasy. The reality is relentless, heartbreaking, and borderline insane.

Michael and I have spent entire afternoons waiting for kids who never show up. We would arrange a meeting, pick a time and place, and then sit there. Hours go by. No one comes. Or they suddenly decide they do not want to go to rehab anymore. Or they disappear for weeks. And Michael just keeps showing up. Again and again.

And it is not just sitting in town getting stood up. Once we had an "appointment" to meet Gerson's family in a remote village about 30 minutes away. We crossed a river on a zip line. We waited. He never came. We ended up hiking uphill for nearly two hours, walking through villages asking people if they knew Gerson or Darwin. Nobody had even heard of them.

On two occasions, we brought food to Manuel. While waiting outside his "house," he went to get "grandma" and never came back. People warned Michael to stay away from that area because he had been seen near the spot where the dealers hang out, and the gossip started flying. He could not have cared less what others thought.

He knew what he was doing there and that's all that mattered to him.

I used to tell Michael that he was Charlie Brown, and the boys were Lucy, pulling the football away and watching him wipe out over and over. That was not a one time thing. That is what this work looks like. Over and over. Being stood up. Risking safety. Being disappointed. Having your heart broken. And Michael does not stop. He does not give up on them because he knows they are kids who have been abandoned and betrayed so many times that they expect everyone to walk away. And he refuses to be one more adult who lets them down.

People need to understand that nobody else is doing this. Nobody. Michael is the only one I know who has the patience and stubbornness to stick with these kids no matter how messy and maddening it gets. It is like trying to coax an abused kitten out from under a porch. You cannot yell. You cannot force it. You just sit there, day after day, proving you are safe, proving you mean it. That is Michael.

I have watched him do this for months, and I am convinced most people would not last a day. This work is brutal, exhausting, and at times even dangerous. But it is also beautiful. Because eventually, sometimes, the kids do trust him. They take the risk. They choose life.

If you think this is easy, you do not understand it. If you wonder why I believe so deeply in Project Gerson, it is because I have seen what it takes. And I have seen who is willing to do it.

Brendan

brendan@projectgerson.org