Poverty Project International Stories

There is a park in the middle of town on the island of Colon in Bocas Del Toro, Panama. Streets run around all four sides of it. Fantastically huge trees grow in the park and the peeling-painted benches offer seating to travelers and locals alike. If you walk down the street on the west side of the park and you see Good Times walking down the street on the east side of the park, you better hurry up and decide if you want to buy one of his free newspapers. Yes, buy one. Good Times is my nick name for Sergio because he is always trying to sell me a copy of the little free newspaper called The Good Times. I get it. He needs to eat and he doesn't want to beg. I buy his newspaper occasionally and sometimes I just buy him lunch. But this is not about his financial situation. It's about his intuition. If you walk down the west street and Good Times is walking in the opposite direction down the east street and you just catch a glimpse of him through those great trees, the one...

This is Pato. He is deaf and cannot speak. When we first met him, he stood in the background and didn't really connect with people. He spoke some sign language, and read lips, but he didn't interact with many people. I am sure growing up in a poor community did not make many resources available to him.   So we started waving and then buying him M&Ms and acting funny and making him laugh. Soon he was coming over to the house and cutting the yard and fixing the fence. We paid him, which I am sure was a great boost to his self esteem. But the most important part was, he was learning to relax and interact with people.  Well, last week we found Pato a job! There is a little shop around the corner where they build beautiful handmade furniture from local hardwoods. I had them make me a bed and two dressers and they did a beautiful job for a price that made me really happy.  We walk by the place every day on the way to the store, and after being so happy w...

Wanna listen to a story? There is a street bum in Bocas Del Toro, Panama named jack Sparrow. Well, that's what he calls himself anyway. I don't know his real name.  Relax and enjoy this recording of a little story about Jack.  Interested in more? You can get all the short stories put together in one book called  I RAN AWAY TO MEXICO: An Unexpected Spiritual Journey.  Its on Amazon now on KINDLE and in PAPERBACK you can order it here Enjoy! Laura Please check out our FULL WEBSITE at www.PovertyProjectInternational.com Connect with us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/povertyprojectinternational/ If you want to chat, you can email us at povertyprojectinternational@gmail.com Or if you want to help us out and DONATE, you can go to PAYPAL and send your donation to   povertyprojectinternational@gmail.com All donations are tax deductible. Live is an adventure, Live it!

We lost a young man. His name was Ubaldino and he was 20. He was an orhpan who was left on the streets when he was about 12 with a 2 year old brother to care for. And he had a terrible skin disease. It is so hard to understand why some are born into this world to undergo such suffering. Ubaldino could not work because his condition. He knew he could not have a girl friend, which is heartbreaking to me, to think that you could never know that basic kind of love. We bought zinc for the roof of his house. before that, the rain poured in. We bought blankets and pillows for his bed because he had none. We bought clothing for him and for his little brother and food for their table. But it wasn't enough. This is difficult for me. I cared for a young man that no one would hug because of the way he looked. He came running across the street to me yelling, Mommy! everytime he was me. Sometimes I was frustrated with him because he wanted money to out minutes on his cell phone and I ...

I spent some time talking with an old man on the corner in a small Jamacian flavored town in Panama. Before I tell you what he said, I want to describe the town for you. It used to big a bustling port for Chiquita Banana. The best bananas in all of Central America are grown here. But due to modern machinery and a drop in the banana market, the town was all but deserted of its high rollers and the 1000 plus jobs at the port were reduced to just a couple hundred. Now tall wooden houses stand, ravaged by time and subdivided into small apartments. Some are leaning a little too much and some have literally fallen into the sea. A few newer concrete homes have sprung up and heavy gates and bars guard their windows. To walk the streets, one would think the place poor. More than poor. The people who live in the more touristy nearby islands speak of this town using words like "unhealthy," "poor," and "dirty." So when I came to spend a few days here, I ...

I asked Jerry where he lives. His face brightened. "On the street" he beamed, "or on the beach" Lets go back a bit.... I have seen Jerry cleaning in the park. I have seen him sweeping and picking up trash. And I have seen him taking a little nap on a park bench. I thought he worked for the town. He doesn't. He just likes things to be clean. I met him in the street today. He was pushing a shopping cart filled with an old broom and dust pan, an old lamp, a fan, and a back pack. He was carrying a small package in his hand and I was surprised when he showed me what was inside. A new wheel for his shopping cart. It cost $3.50. He didn't ask for any money. But he did tell me how he was going to fix the lamp and fix the fan. And then there was the Bible in his pocket. When I asked him about it, his eyes lit up. Just like they did when I asked him where he lived. Odd thing. Did you know Jesus was homeless? He said, "Foxes have dens and bird...

This is Ubaldino. He is suffering from psoriasis, an autoimmune condition that causes sores all over his body, and swelling and arthritic symptoms in his joints. So great is his skin problem that scar tissue has deformed his hands. His entire body is covered in painful, itchy sores. He is extremely poor, has been cast out by his parents, and is unable to work. He just turned 20. The first time I saw Ubaldino, he was walking down the street, arms wrapped around his chest as if to protect himself. I am sure he must feel as if he is an outcast of society. The second time I saw him, I chatted with him and he shared a little of his story. I laid my hand on his shoulder to pray for him and he warmed at my touch. Yesterday when I saw him (it's been months now of connecting) he ran across the street yelling "mommy! and threw his arms around my neck. Such a sweet, gentle boy. He'd been to a hospital 4 hours away and received an injection (I am guessing steroids) and w...