The Timely Purchase of El Hogar

A group of ministers and workers gathered in for prayer, definite prayer, seeking earnestly the guidance of God in this new undertaking. They placed before God every child that should, as the years come and go, enter the Home for care and training. Then they threw themselves on the unfailing promises of God, and on His almighty arm, asking Him to move on the hearts of men and women, that the urgent needs of the work might be supplied. She writes:

And why should we not expect Him to do this very thing? Has He not said through Paul, “But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory”* (Philippians 4:19)?

Yes, thank God, the dear little ones who now come and go under the care of this home are no longer poor, for God is their Father, and He has given definite promises to cover every need for them. And, are not all the children in the world His? I am fully convinced that they are, and am also convinced of the fact that we, as God’s children, have been far too slow in moving out on faith’s almighty arm, and through Christ, daring to do great things in helping to carry out God’s great plan for these underprivileged children.

We at once began praying for money with which to buy a place, for we were convinced that we would not be able to rent a place large enough for this work. Our faith grew as we saw the wonderful leadings of the Lord, and we believed He could and would supply so that we could have a proper place for the work He had laid on our hearts.

And so it was by faith in God that we had moved out, searching for a place and spending many days in this effort. At last I said to some of the brethren who had been helping to find a suitable building, “Brethren, God has a place already picked out, and our responsibility is to find that place.” So we had definite prayer for divine guidance, and in a few days, were called to see the very place we finally did purchase.

The day that the Home in Santa Fe, Cuba, was opened for needy children, seventeen little ones were turned away. That was a greater number than was received into the home.* These poor ones went back that day to the hopeless life of suffering from continual hunger and the fear and danger of a life in the streets of the great city of Havana. The burden lay heavily upon their hearts, and as they labored and planned for those already sheltered, they cried out to God for larger and better facilities to carry on this noble work.

Funds began to come in, and a strict account was made, and it was laid aside for the very purpose for which it had been sent. The weeks went by, and they began to look about for a more suitable building and to pray for guidance to that place which God would open eventually. At last came a worker and directed their attention to a certain property in Los Pinos. This is a suburb of Havana. It is more elevated than the city proper and is considered a place especially healthy in which to live.

This property, “Villa Conchita,” was a spacious house of several large rooms with a basement under part of it. A large arched entrance lent dignity to the estate of seven acres. Beautiful royal palms line the entire front and north end of the property, their proud heads standing high above all the other trees and their branches waving in the fresh sea breeze wafted over the Island. At the rear of the house, there was ample room for work or play.

When Faith Stewart approached the entrance, a strong conviction seized her that this was God’s place for the children at this particular time. There was but one thing lacking to secure the place at once; God had provided seven thousand dollars, and the cost of the property was twelve thousand. They visited the realtor, and he was very gracious.

“We have only seven thousand dollars,” she said.

“And we will accept that seven thousand, and you may pay the rest as you are able.”

This was good news indeed, and they once more stepped out on faith, paying a down payment of seven thousand. They made a promise to come back in two weeks and finish the negotiations for the transfer of the property, but prayer went up to God. The policy had always been to never go ahead of God, but to wait for means as He sent it. In this deal, the hand of God was so definitely leading that they launched out. From day to day, prayer went up to God, and on the very day, a short time before the hour to settle the business, the daily mail came, and in that mail was a letter containing a check for five thousand dollars. God had heard and sent the five thousand dollars at the eleventh hour.

At the appointed time, they went to the office to pay and make out papers to transfer the property. When the check for five thousand dollars was produced, the lawyer turned to them in surprise and said, “But you told me you only had seven thousand dollars.”

“That is true,” they replied. “We did tell you, and it was the truth then, but God sent in the remainder just before we started today.”

What this businessman of the world thought, as he proceeded to transact business with these people, who can tell, but he must have had much seed for thought.

He had given them liberty to go ahead and make whatever changes were necessary to remodel the house and make it suitable for a dormitory for the Children’s Home. We quote:

Two months later, after entering the little cottage home in Santa Fe, we purchased and paid cash for a beautiful farm with about seven acres of rich land, well covered with many large fruit trees of the finest quality, and a large, roomy house in good condition. We paid twelve thousand dollars for this home. More than one thousand was used to make a large dining room and a few alterations.

What a blessed day we had when we gathered with a large crowd of Christian brethren and friends to dedicate the home God had given us for the underprivileged children of Cuba. Even during the ceremony, we saw groups of children, thin-faced and poorly dressed, waiting round the edge of the assembly, wanting admission. Some had been brought by mothers who could no longer bear the struggle, and some by policemen. These little ones were lovingly admitted to the home, thus saving the lives of some, and giving the poor mothers a chance to get work and support themselves. Many of these mothers could not get work with several little ones clinging to them. In such cases, we were able to save the children and help the mothers.

I am glad to report that a number of mothers who were before driven by cruel circumstances, begging the streets, and selling themselves for bread are today working in respectable homes, eating good food. One day there came to the home a woman, a dark Cuban, whose health had failed, and asked admission for her children. We took them in. The next day she came again and asked to be taken in, and when we explained that we did not feel that there was really a place we could put her in the work, she sat down on the little bench outside the house and sat there all day. At evening she was still there. We felt that we could not turn her away, and she was told to come in. Later she filled in the place of the matron for the girls’ home for about ten years. This woman was Claudina who labored here until her health was so poor that she at last decided to take her children to live with her mother.

It was so with Virginia. She came one day, pregnant, seeking a place for her three children, and in a starving condition.

“Then what will you do? Who will take you in your condition to work for them? Perhaps you had better stay here and do what you can until the little one comes,” she was told.

So she stayed, and later began her work in the nursery, and also served for some years at El Hogar.

As the new home began filling up with children, we had our hearts and our hands full and were soon made to realize how great the undertaking was. Many of these children had only one place, and that the streets, and had learned long ago to fight fiercely for every inch of liberty and opportunity, and had no idea of getting along peaceably with anyone. Life was a continual struggle, and they felt more at home in that atmosphere. For many weeks, the very air of the place was filled with cursing and all kinds of bad language and with screams from the children as they fought one with another.

A trained nurse who was in Havana at that time came and stayed for nearly a month, just to help out, and her special responsibility was to dress the wounds and sores. Many of the children came to us in very bad condition physically, and a goodly number were almost covered with sores. Naturally these had to be attended to. And then also the wounds that were inflicted by the children fighting one with another added much to the work of the nurse. But thank God, since that time, the children have learned something of the law of kindness and love. We seldom hear of a fight or of trouble between them. Thank God for the power there is in the Gospel.

Now the atmosphere of the place is entirely changed, and we lift our hearts to God in grateful praise as we hear the happy laughter or snatches of songs as the children work or play. I have mentioned these things that you may know something really of what our responsibility has been, and may also better understand how great is God’s plan in saving these dear little ones from the terrible end that surely would have been theirs.

The jails and asylums of Cuba are mainly filled with men and women who might have filled places of usefulness in life, if only they had been taken from the bad conditions which surrounded them and had been taught the right way of living in childhood.

Now, instead of hearing bad language and fighting from morning until night, happy laughter and song fill the air. And many times in the midst of my work, I stop to listen as I hear some sweet voice in prayer in some part of the Home. The children are responding in a wonderful way to the teaching of the Gospel, and it is marvelous, the changes that have been wrought in many of these lives.

Thank God we have had the privilege of seeing many of these dear children built up in health where we could then begin to give them opportunities in life so that they can grow up to be a blessing in the world. Most of these children had never been to school a day in their lives, and many of them at an age where they could not, in this condition, have been admitted to a public school.

But here we plan to give each child his or her opportunity, no matter what age when admitted. We have taken in three children about eleven or twelve years of age who did not know the alphabet, but these were placed in classes, and today they read and are getting along well in their school classes. When we took in those first children, we found that many had never used a plate for food or eaten with knife and fork as most children do, just a piece in the hand, etc. Neither had they ever slept in a bed. Only our good Heavenly Father knows what we undertook in those days. What infinite patience and wisdom was needed! To have a large group of children of near ages who had practically lived on the streets, slept as told before on benches and doorways, and begged or stolen to exist, thrown in with others who more recently had some kind of home and been loved and sheltered more tenderly was a problem we trusted God to help us solve.

Only God above could help in such a setup as they tackled the seemingly impossible from day to day. Again we quote:

But today we have a fine group of children who can mingle among others of good family, and who are rapidly making progress in their preparations for good and useful living. As we look on these children and see the noble traits being brought out in many of their lives and think of what the future holds for them, our hearts are lifted in gratitude to God, their Father, because we are sure that many of these same children, had they been left out in the streets as they were, would have, before now, been in the hands of the law as criminals.

Oh, brethren, what a responsibility would have been ours at the day of Judgment had we not obeyed the leadings of the dear Holy Spirit as He guided us in the opening of the children’s work. As the weeks and months went on, the stories of the lives of these little ones were gathered, and many were sad indeed.

As mentioned before, we have eight adults here working among the children. This number includes a teacher for the graded work in school, a kindergarten teacher, a seamstress, a laundress, a cook, a woman to care for the wee tots. And naturally, I live in the institution to mother them all, and to direct in the administration of the work.

The laundress, the cook, the seamstress and the woman who cares for the babies are each not only responsible for their own part of the work but also to teach their particular work to the children, as this institution is carried on as a vocational school.

The boys and girls who are in the grades are divided into groups for the domestic classes in the morning. Each boy or girl has other classes of definite preparation. The boys must learn laundry work, cooking and gardening. The girls must learn, aside from their school work, cooking, nursing little children, laundry work, and sewing. Then as we labor on, if we see special talents in some of the children, we shall do our best to help them to prepare for those possible places in life.

And naturally, above all this, their attention will be directed to the greatest calling there is in life, that of pouring out their lives in service to God and to humanity. Here we have a chance to plant the precious Word of God in tender hearts where we can expect a bountiful harvest. Praise God for this golden opportunity, but remember it brings with it great responsibility. Is part of this not yours?

Most every child admitted into El Hogar—which means literally “the home”—has a story back of his or her coming. There is the story of little Marcelino who was brought to El Hogar when about a year old. His mother was so tubercular that she could not nurse him and could not afford to buy milk for him, and he had never been fed anything but the water from rice. When discovered by someone who took interest in his case, he was not only starving to death but was helpless as a tiny infant.

The doctors who examined him shook their heads over the tragic case.

“This child you cannot save,” they said. “He will never be able to walk, and will, if he lives, always be a care for others. Also his case has gone so far back in his infancy that his mind will never be right.”

But Marcelino was their case at El Hogar. He was brought in and placed in his little crib, receiving the diet prescribed for him, and not only the loving care of those whose duty it was to care for him, but the affection of the other children round about him. They, too, had suffered out there in the cruel world and had been, some of them, in a sad condition, and they loved him as though he had been their brother in the flesh.

Earnest prayer went up from trusting hearts from day to day for the life of this little boy to be spared, whom God had surely sent, in His mercy, to their open door. Time went on, and nourishment and loving care was not spared. Slowly a change came over the tiny baby. There was not so much sad crying, and the child rested more in his little bed. Slowly also, the pitiful arms and legs took on flesh. Then steady, noticeable improvement set in.

There came a time when the same physician who had examined him and had given his opinion, had occasion to visit the Home. Marcelino’s name was mentioned.

“You do not mean the little baby you had here some time ago?” he asked. “Surely he did not live. That would be impossible.”

“He not only lives,” they said, “but is perfectly normal in both body and mind. He is a well boy, and gets along in school with the other boys in studies.”

“Call him in here; I want to see that child.”

Marcelino was called and came in obediently, standing before the physician with his bright dark eyes fixed on him. The physician marveled.

“It is a miracle. How was it ever accomplished?” asked this man of science as he gazed on the bright-faced little lad, who through the love of God and his people, had so miraculously been saved from death.

A short while later when roll call was made among the children, and each was answering with his or her full name, his turn came. He stood at first confused, for the name of the poor dying mother was not known. Then his countenance brightened and he said proudly, “Marcelino Stewart,” and ended triumphantly. And all the rest accepted his newly adopted name, chosen by him in love and gratitude to one who had made both home and life a possibility.

There is also a little girl in the Home who has accepted the name of her benefactor. She is Sonia Stewart because she had no known name.

Then there was little Ramon. He was a beautiful child of about five years when we first remember seeing him. We were sitting about the table eating our noonday meal in the kitchen of the Mission proper when he shyly came to the door and looked in. A kind word and a smile from Sister Stewart so encouraged him that he started walking through the room slowly, looking straight ahead. Then someone called him back. This he had evidently counted on, and turned very willingly in time to accept a cake of chewing gum, and then with a sweet smile on the pretty little face, he began his onward march, going straight through the house until he reached the front veranda. Then he climbed into one of the rockers there, sitting both quietly and contentedly until he fell asleep.

It was not in the rules that a child could run freely through the missionaries’ rooms, but Ramon was at that time a privileged character. He, too, had come to them almost too late, and his poor stomach could only stand to have mashed potatoes or gruel or milk for food, and it had to make a slow comeback. So, too weak to play with the others, he wandered about the children’s section, then through the corridor in the missionaries’ rooms, never stopping, however, to play or bother anything, but apparently hoping secretly that someone would notice him. Very often, as he sat in the large rocker on the front veranda, he would fall asleep and have an afternoon nap.

When he was about eight years old and had been attending school for about two years, an offer was made to each boy and girl in the Home that, as soon as he or she was capable of reading the New Testament, they would receive a personal copy as a gift. Ramon had received no copy because he was one of the younger children who had not much schooling as yet. He came to Miss Stewart one day saying, “Abuelita [little grandma]; may I have one of the New Testaments?”

“You know the conditions must be met, Ramon. When you can read it for yourself, you may have one.”

He went away, evidently satisfied, and several weeks went by, and again he presented himself before “little grandma,” as her children so lovingly called her.

“Abuelita, I have come for my New Testament,” he said, as he quietly stood in her presence.

“You remember the condition, do you not, Ramon?”

“Yes, and I can read it.”

In much doubt, but interested to know what he had done about the matter during the intervening weeks, she handed him a new copy of the Testament. He opened the book, and slowly and painstakingly, he read several verses. She was really astonished to find, that laboring faithfully, his childish mind had taken in and laid hold on the job at hand. He finished at last and stood looking at her.

“Ramon, you shall have a New Testament of your very own,” she said quietly. “You have earned it and you deserve it.”

And he walked out of the room the proud possessor of a book that mostly only older boys had been able to obtain.

That God is our great Physician was taught from the very beginning to the boys and girls. Did a worker suddenly fall ill? A group of Christians met and agreed in prayer, asking God to heal the afflicted one. Was Abuelita taken sick? They crowded about her in earnest, believing prayer. If she did not mend, there was fasting and prayer until she did. The trusting hearts of the little children soon learned the secret of power in prayer. That secret was “only believe,” and they believed and doubted not.

At one time when a worker was very ill, they missed some of the children, and found them in a quiet place earnestly holding on in believing prayer for the sick one. Again, when Miss Stewart herself was ill, one of the smaller boys came in and offered to pray for her, and proceeded to pray earnestly for her healing. Finally he stood solemnly before her and said, “Do you believe?”

“I do,” she replied as solemnly as he. And he went away, satisfied that he had done his part for her.

Rules and laws of health are kept in the Homes as a public institution, but God has worked marvelously in spite of it all. He has healed when science could do nothing and has been glorified among the children.

There is a custom in the Home. I do not know if it has been borrowed from the Spanish who sang early in their homes in olden days, or if it has always been a custom of her Homes for children. But in the morning at seven, the boys can be heard singing the songs of Zion at breakfast time, and in a short while from the other side, the girls were singing also. At evening their songs float out on the air again before they retire for the night. It is a beautiful and touching custom. As I sit at my desk at an open window, the sweet voice of a young girl comes to me from behind the iron bars of the open window of the girls’ home across the way. She is working in the kitchen and singing as she labors, walking back and forth to prepare the evening meal.

There have been times when someone in the homeland forgot, or maybe failed, selfishly spending what God ordained they should share with the needy in other lands, and the Homes faced an empty cupboard. At such times all they could do was call mightily on God.

One time, when Mildred, a native of Grand Caymen, was cook for the Boys’ Home, and Claudina, a native Cuban, was cook for the girls, there was a morning when Mildred came into the room, saying, “There is nothing in the cupboard with which to prepare a meal. What shall we do?”

“Do you have any one thing?”

“A few beans, but not half enough.”

“Go back and put on what you have.”

“But it won’t go around.”

“Put that much on,” said the missionary, “and then go into the closet of prayer and ask God to provide.”

As Mildred turned to obey, Claudina entered the side door from the girls’ department saying, “There is nothing for dinner. What shall I do?”

She received the same answer given the boys’ cook. But just then one of the boys entered, saying, “Abuelita, there is someone at the door who wishes to see you, please come.”

She arose and went to the living room. There stood a young man with a smiling face as he placed a large bag of rice on the floor. This was followed by a bag of potatoes, and this by a bag of other vegetables, a box of side meat, and some spices that the Cubans deem so necessary in their food. She thanked him with a grateful heart, asking him to sit down.

“I cannot,” he replied, “my wife and baby are waiting out in front. I am of another faith, but when God gave us this first child, we were so grateful that we felt that we would like to show our gratitude. We have heard of this home for destitute children, and we feel that we want to share with you in our deep appreciation for this little child.”

He left and was never seen again. God had sent him to answer the cry of the faithful workers.

Mildred had gone as told, and put on the few beans, then returned and, walking through the hall, saw the supplies on the floor of the room beyond. She fell on her knees and with tears thanked God for answered prayer. And then the workers gathered in and thanked God in a little prayer service held on the spur of the moment for His goodness to them.

Later in the day Miss Stewart said, “Mildred, what are you having for supper?”

“Bean soup for all.”

“Bean soup? Were there some beans among those groceries?”

“No, but I did what you told me, and I cooked those beans as soup and then cooked some of the rice that was brought, and it not only stretched out the dinner, but there is so much left that we have enough for supper.”

And why not? Could not the same Christ who multiplied the bread and fishes for a hungry multitude also multiply the food for some of His little ones? Or have we forgotten how great a God we serve? And how big is our faith in Him? He is limited only by your faith and mine.

We feel that we must tell more of the life of Marcelino. Time went by, and he grew up to be about fourteen years of age, a quiet, shy boy. One day, a city policeman came to the Home inquiring for a child entered at a home at a certain date. He said he had been calling at these institutions all over the city without success.

The mother had threatened to put the child where he would never be able to find him, but apparently in her poverty had held on desperately until compelled to give up because of his starving condition.

Again and again, he called at the home. He had married and had no children and he and his wife both desired to have the child. Marcelino was willing to go.

The father promised to put him in a good school and give him an education. He went to spend vacation with him, and all are happy for the fine boy if it please God for him to have a home and a name at last. There he will no longer be Marcelino Stewart. But he was saved from the streets, suffering, and the very grave, and El Hogar has sheltered his young life until a suitable place has been found.