Welcoming Jose and Jucelina to our Sunshine Family

It is always a joy to welcome a new child into our Sunshine Houses. These days are filled with happiness, knowing that the child is now safe, cared for, and has a future. But they are also emotionally heavy. It is never easy to witness the suffering children endure in this broken world. While we are grateful to help those brought to us, we’re constantly aware of the countless others still in need. 

Meet 3-year-old Jose and 5-year-old Jucelina. 

Just a week ago, their case was brought to our attention by a social worker who urged immediate placement. The children were living in horrific conditions. Though both their biological parents were alive, their home was far from safe. The mother was described as mentally unstable and incapable of caring for them. The father was aggressively violent, beating his wife daily in front of the children—leaving deep emotional wounds. The family had no home, no food, no money—nothing. Like so many families in Mozambique, they were merely surviving day by day. 

Our Sunshine Approach Foundation primarily cares for orphaned children who have no family left to support them. However, we also make room for children like Jose and Jucelina—those with living parents who are unable to provide proper care. It is estimated that nearly 80% of children in orphanages worldwide still have a living parent. Jose and Jucelina had a father and a mother, but they were parents in name only. 

When Social Action expressed urgency in placing the children with us—even before all paperwork was complete—we knew the situation was serious. Typically, they insist on having every document in perfect order before any placement occurs. We’ve waited weeks for other cases because of delays. But this time, the urgency was clear: the children had already been removed from their parents and were temporarily living with a social worker—something we had never encountered before. 

Delcio and I met the children, their parents, and the social workers last Tuesday in a public location. When the father first saw us, the mother and the social workers told him, “Olha! Eles não são ladrões!” ("Look! They are not robbers!")—a heartbreaking reflection of the fear that child trafficking brings to families here. The workers explained who we were and what we could offer the children. The father listened quietly and thanked us for caring. 

From the start, it was clear the father was aggressive. Several times during our brief meeting, he raised his hand to strike his wife. The social workers intervened, warning him that such behavior was criminal and would be reported. We made it very clear to them: if we accepted the children, their parents could never know our location or the name of our foundation. The safety of all our children must come first. 

The mother’s behavior was puzzling and deeply sad. It wasn’t her mental state that struck us most, but the way she came prepared to hand the children over—clothes packed in a small plastic grocery bag. She kept pushing both the children and the bag toward us, as if to say, “Take them. Take them now.” 

After our meeting, we went to the local government office to seek permission from the chefe do posto (the local chief). But due to other obligations, the social workers couldn’t finalize the process until Friday. 

Then on Thursday of the same week, we were scheduled to receive two other children. When we arrived at the office of Social Action, we were surprised to see Jose, Jucelina, and their mother waiting for us again—plastic bag in hand, urging us to take them. It was odd. And it was heartbreaking. But we still lacked the father’s official declaration and the final government approval. So, once again, we had no choice but to leave them with their mother. 

By Friday, the father had submitted a signed declaration relinquishing his parental rights and consenting to place the children in our care. Everything was in order—yet we were told we would have to wait until the following week due to the fact that the chefe and social workers were busy. 

Then came today, Monday. Delcio received a tearful call from the social worker who had been sheltering the children and their mother. She told him that the mother had run away over the weekend—leaving the children behind. No one knew where she was. 

Suddenly, it all made sense. 

The mother had been preparing for this. She needed to escape her life of abuse. But first, she made sure her children would be safe. She made an incredibly difficult decision—a decision born from desperation but also love. 

Delcio moved quickly into action. That same day, the social workers, the father, and the chefe do posto finalized all approvals. 

Jose and Jucelina are now officially part of our Sunshine family. 

Please join us in welcoming them with open arms. It is our joy and honor to offer them—and all 35 of our children—a loving home, an education, medical care, daily necessities, and most importantly, hope for a brighter future. 

With each new child, our hearts grow fuller, but so does the need to provide. If you, your business, or your church would like to learn more about sponsoring a child or supporting a Sunshine House family, please contact us. We would love to share how you can help bring healing and hope to these precious lives.

A New Chapter for Our Sunshine Children

The 2025 academic year, which began for us in February, marked a significant turning point for our Sunshine children. Twenty of them transferred to a new school after the tuition at their previous school was raised beyond what our budget could support. 

As both a parent and a teacher, I understand how challenging it can be for a child to change schools. They must adapt to a new environment—different classrooms, teachers, routines, and expectations. Most of all, they must find their place among new peers. I was especially concerned because the new school is not only more disciplined but also far more academically rigorous than the one they left behind. Expectations are higher, and the adjustment was bound to be tough. 

Truthfully, I had wanted to move them years ago. But the school was too far for our younger children to walk. Thanks to our generous donors, that barrier has now been lifted—we have a van to transport them! 

So, with a hopeful heart, I prayed and held my breath. 

I believed they could do it. These children are resilient. They’ve overcome more than most people could imagine. But when they brought me their first set of test scores, my heart sank. The majority had failing grades—even the students who had previously been at the top of their class. My confidence wavered, so I prayed even harder. 

Last week, the second round of test results for the first trimester came in—and what a difference! One by one, the children rushed into our learning center, madly waving their papers in the air. Their scores had improved dramatically. Their joy was infectious—we danced, we hugged, we laughed, and we cheered together! 

But the most beautiful moment came when we saw how the children responded to the two students (we won’t name names!) who still hadn’t passed—but had doubled their scores. Without hesitation, the other children surrounded them with cheers and a giant group hug. That moment moved me to tears. I have never witnessed such pure, heartfelt encouragement and kindness.

Our primary children proudly displaying their improved test results!

A Star is Born

Whenever Don and I settle in to watch a movie, we’re drawn to inspiring stories of individuals who triumph over seemingly insurmountable odds. Films like The Queen of Katwe, Braveheart, Hacksaw Ridge, and The Blind Side immediately come to mind. We can relate to the struggle of facing overwhelming challenges and continuing to stand and fight, when it feels as though everything and everyone is stacked against you and failure seems inevitable. Perhaps that’s why these films resonate so deeply within us. But, much like the heroes in these stories, we’ve learned that giving up is never the answer. 

Each of our Sunshine children could easily be the subject of such a movie. Every one of them is an overcomer, rising above circumstances that would cause most of us to give up. If a movie director were ever to ask me which of my children would inspire others, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to say, “Cecilia.” Cecilia is a young woman who has overcome more than her fair share of adversity, and she stands as a shining example of what it means to be an overcomer. 

Cecilia was the first of our Sunshine children. In January 2014, her mother committed suicide after their father had been killed in a car accident. This left the then 12-year-old Cecilia in charge of her younger siblings, Madalena, 5, and Antonio, 3. After her mother’s death, Cecilia and her siblings were taken in by their uncle, their father’s brother. He told them upfront that all he could offer them was a floor to sleep on and a roof over their heads, but that was all. He himself was very poor. His only income came from selling plastic bags in the markets. He could not offer them any food, education, or support of any kind. Cecilia recalls laying on the cement floor at night with her siblings sleeping next to her, overhearing her uncle and aunt fighting over their presence in the house. The aunt did not want them there. 

This is when we entered into the picture and heard of their situation. Thus was birthed the first of our Sunshine Homes where we create families by pairing together a widowed/vulnerable woman with four to six orphaned children. 

From the start, we recognized a fighter in Cecilia. She would do whatever she needed to do to succeed in life. We have seen her demonstrate this time and time again over the past 11 years. 

We enrolled Cecilia to study at a local private school, Cantinho do Ceu. She entered the school in grade 10. 

In Mozambique, only 1% of the children who start first grade will graduate from grade 12. The educational system is very lacking in all ways and is ranked 160th in the world compared to other countries. Cecilia would have spent grades 1-9 in a very substandard academic environment. When she entered grade 10 at Cantinho do Ceu, she rubbed shoulders with the elite of her peers. She was studying alongside colleagues who had been privileged to a solid, private education. She was disadvantaged and would have been very far behind her classmates. But she did not let this stop her. She caught up, kept up, and graduated. 

She then went on to university. When I first met her at the age of 12, I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. She said she wanted to be a lawyer so that she could help those in need and be a voice for the people who had no voice. Cecilia entered Universidade de Sao Tomas to study law. Her freshman year was a challenge for her, as it is for most college freshmen. It was no surprise to us that she worked and passed her first two semesters. Then came her sophomore year. It was February 2020…Covid hit and shut everything down only a week or two into her semester. She persevered on completing her courses online. For those of you in the Western world, “online courses” is an easy, doable way to study. Not so here in Mozambique. Lack of access to a computer, unreliable internet, and educators who do not know how to use alternative teaching and study methods make this type of study very challenging. But she did it! Covid has delayed her graduation for a year, but she did not let it stop her. 

At the end of her sophomore year, her beloved house mother, Zelda, died very unexpectedly. Zelda had been mother to Cecilia and her siblings for nine years. They were a family, rooted and united together in love. Zelda loved and cared for Cecilia, Madalena, and Antonio and helped them to heal from the loss of their biological parents. She raised them to be of strong and upright character. She poured her life into them. She was the best of mothers. They not only loved her, they cherished her. Her death was a severe blow to them. 

After Zelda's death, Cecilia wanted to be head of her family. We believed she was not ready yet. She had just turned 21 and still had two years of university studies to focus on. This was her priority. Having to care for the house, food shop, prepare meals, and raise her teenaged siblings would be too much of a distraction for her. So we brought in a woman to be the housemother. It did not work out well; to fill the shoes of Zelda was a lofty ask. It was going from bad to worse, so we moved this mother to another house with small children. 

We then brought in a new woman to oversee the household; a woman who was older, more experienced, and stronger. We informed the children that they were to respect and honor her, and we informed the new house mother to hold firm. It was going exceedingly well and everyone was happy. About six months into the new house mother’s arrival, it was discovered that in her zeal to accept the position, she “forgot” to tell us that she had a husband and teenaged children! We counseled her and she understood that her responsibility was first and foremost to her husband and children, so she chose to return to her home. 

Cecilia was now 23. We did not want to put her, Madalena, or Antonio through another loss. We felt she was ready to take on the responsibility for her family. We knew what Cecilia is made of, and we knew she would succeed. We also knew that Madalena and Antonio respect Cecilia and obey her. Their family had suffered enough trauma. It was time to let them be their own nuclear family. 

It has now been a year, and the three siblings are doing great! Cecilia gets up and is off to her final class in the city each morning. Madalena and Antonio get up and go to tutoring in the morning and high school classes in the afternoon. They all contribute and do the chores at the house. We are always around to oversee and assist in anyway needed, but they never have needed us yet! 

Covid was not the only potentially ruinous event to interfere with her goal to finish her university education and become a lawyer. The end of her most recent semester was disrupted by political and civil unrest that erupted in Mozambique after the elections in October 2024. Schools and businesses were forced to close for days and weeks at a time as the opposition party called for protests from the people. These protests turned violent and made it unsafe to go out. Students missed the far majority of their classes in November and December. When it came time for the final exams at the end of the semester in January, the students were forced to take the risk of going to school to take them so as to complete their courses. Even now, the situation is volatile. At the height of the violence, she looked at me with a helpless look in her eye saying, "First Covid, and now this?" Yet Cecilia, being Cecilia, forged ahead and has continued on. 

This semester, Cecilia is not only completing her final required course but also working diligently on her thesis, which she’ll present in May. Can you guess the focus of her thesis? It’s about improving the care of orphaned and vulnerable children through family-based care—a subject she’s deeply knowledgeable and passionate about. Once she finishes this final class and successfully defends her thesis, she’ll be ready to graduate! We’re also securing an internship for her to help launch her dream career. I can’t help but smile when I think of all she’s faced and overcome. It’s truly a privilege to walk alongside this remarkable young woman. While her story might not make it to the big screen, she remains a powerful inspiration to all who know her—especially to the 33 other Sunshine children, many of whom now aspire to become lawyers, just like her!