The Shack

Before I begin telling you about this book, let me just say it has opened the doors to a new vision of God for me. Now, I know this book is very controversial--and there are definately details that I won't excuse or try to explain. For that very reason, I almost put the book aside, but decided to just browse through the whole thing. My cousin had given it to me and said he'd like to know what I thought about it... so, I thought I should at least look at the whole thing.

Then, I started hitting theology so deep that it required me to run around looking for a highlighter, and to start reading slowly and thoughtfully.

The Shack is a story about a man who looses his daughter to a great tragedy. He sinks into years of depression, until he receives a note to go meet with God in the very same shack where his daughter was found dead.

The Shack deals with some super big questions, the ones that a lot of us would rather just step around or reply to with easy, "God loves you" kind of answers. The author doesn't do either of those. He really digs into the question of, "Why does God allow evil to happen?" as will as concepts such as the Trinity, freedom vs free will, religiousity vs love to name a few.

We all come at things with our different backgrounds, social norms and personalities--so I know this book may not be for everyone. I happen to love metaphors and word pictures, so I could really connect with the author on that level.

A person reviewing the book said, "This book has the potential to do for our generation what John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress did for his." I don't know about that, but when I thought of the book as an allogory, it made it better for me.

Something I've always struggled with is seeing God as the angry Judge and Jesus as the one who makes us right with him. This book has helped me correct that view. I also always felt very guilty for not feeling emotional about Jesus' work on the cross (perhaps a by-product of being raised in a Christian home--it was just a fact for me). This book began a process of opening "the eyes of my heart" to what was done through Jesus life, death, and resurection--and now I can't talk about it without feeling my heart swell in awe and disbelief.

Let me share some of my favorite quotes:

POWER & INDEPENDENCE

God, about the world's use of authority: "In your world the value of the individual is constantly weighed against the survival of the system... the 'will to power and independence' has become so ubiquitous that it is now considered normal."

Mack--"So you are telling my that whenever we humans protect ourselves with power..." Jesus: "...You are yielding to the matrix and not to us."

Holy Spirit: "Broken humans... are addicted to power or the illusion of security that power brings them."

HS--"Rights are where survivors go so they won't have to work on relationships." Mack: "But if I gave up" HS: "..then you would begin to know the adventure and wonder of living in me."

Jesus: "To force my will on you is exactly what love does not do... submission is not about authority and it is not obedience; it is all about relationships of love and respect... I want relationship, not slaves to my will... When I am your life, submission is the most natural expression of my character and nature"

God: "All evil flows from independence and independence is your choice."

Holy Spirit: "Those who are afraid of freedom are those who cannot trust us to live in them. Trying to keep the law is actually a declaration of independence, a way of keeping control... It grants you the power to judge others and feel superior to them."

Jesus: "By choosing to declare what is good and evil you seek to determine your own destiny... Before [Eve's] choosing, she found her identity, her security and her understanding of good and evil only in me, as did [Adam]."

GOOD & EVIL

Mack: "I see now that I spend a great deal of my time and energy acquiring that which I have deemed to be good....and fearing that which I have determined to be evil." Holy Spirit: "It allows you to play God in your independence. That's why a part of you prefers not to see me. You don't need me at all to create your list of good and evil. But you do need me if you have any desire to stop this insane lust for independence...[to do this] you must give up your right to decide what is good and evil on your terms."

Wisdom: "Papa has never needed evil to accomplish his good purpose.... what happened to [your daughter] was the work of evil and no one in your world is immune from it."

God: "Just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn't mean I orchestrate the tragedies."

Jesus: "Our earth is like a child who has grown up without parents, having no one to guide and direct her."

God-- nothing can justify this tragedy: "We are not justifying it. We are redeeming it."

THE WORK ON THE CROSS:

God: "Love always leaves a significant mark...We were there together.... Regardless of how [Jesus] felt, I never left him."

God (to the question: what did Jesus accomplish on the cross): "Through his death and resurrection, I am now completely reconciled to the world... Reconciliation is a two-way street, and I have done my part, totally, completely, finally. It is not the nature of love to force a relationship, but it is the nature of love to open the way."

THE TRINITY

The Trinity: "I am a verb. I am that I am who I will be. I am a verb! I am alive, dynamic, ever active, and moving. I am a being verb.. My very essence is a verb. I am more attuned to verbs than nouns. Verbs such as confessing, repenting, living, loving, responding...and on and on. Humans, on the other hand, have a knack for taking a verb that is alive and full of grace and turning it into a dead noun or principle that reeks of rules: something growing and alive dies.... Let's use your words: responsibility and expectation. Before your words became nouns, they were first my words, nouns with movement and experience buried inside of them; the ability to respond and expectancy. My words are alive and dynamic--full of life and possibility; yours are dead and full of law and fear and judgment."

JUDGING

Holy Spirit: "Humans have great capacity for judging things as good or evil without really knowing. "

Wisdom: "You have even judged the value of a person's life by your concept of beauty."

Wisdom (after Mack said he couldn't choose one of his children for condemnation, could he go in their place?): "You sound just like Jesus. You have judged well." Mack: "I haven't judged anything." Wisdom: "You have judged them worthy of love."

Jesus: "Have you noticed that in your pain you always think the worst of me?"

They just don't, ok??

I like to smile. And, I like visitors. But, let me show you some visitors that don't make me smile.





Oh, yeah. And, that's not even the biggest of 'em. It's some kind of moth--but, the first time one flew at me, I thought it was a bird, then a bat. Whatever it was had me running and screaming.

I don't know if they live in grassier areas--because I never saw them in our other apartment, and here I generally spot about 3 a day in various parts of the house.

For example, after killing the fella featured above, I walked around the corner and saw this guy up on the beam next to the ceiling. Eww.





And I hate how they die, too. You can't just whack them and it's over with. No, it usually takes about 10-15 whacks (not kidding). They whole time, the creature is whooshing around in unpredictable dive-bomb patterns while shedding all over the place. It is horrifying, terrible.

And after spotting the one above, I walked about 3 steps more and saw this one. Thought you'd like to see some of the furniture to kind of compare sizes. I'm nice that way.




Actually, that picture is somewhat of a two-fer. You get to see the creature... and what our living room walls look like in this "prepping stage".

Back to the moth: Imagine sleeping, and hearing this hairy beast bumping against the ceilings and walls in your room. Utter disgustingness. That's when you pull the covers over your head, shove the hubby out of bed with your foot (ever so gently) so he can kill it.... and dream of screened windows.

Made me smile...

My toddler's version of eating apples.

Beginnings... and continuance

Last night, as I was waiting for Rey to get back from some late-night painting on the new house, I happened to lift my gaze to the skies. And I remembered something about our wedding.



We prepared for our wedding over the phone. When I asked Rey what thing(s) he really wanted in the wedding--one of the things he said was "a full moon". (I should say we were originally wanting a beach wedding.) So, we looked at the calenders and August 25 was a full moon. Last night--the moon was as full and beautiful as it was the night we pulled away from our wedding reception.

It's my anniversary--our anniversary, I should say.

I think back to what I was doing three years ago... Wedding day!

So, Rey and I had decided not to kiss each other until the day we were married. It wasn't the easiest of commitments. Rey actually decided to refer to kisses as "chocolates" (think: Hershey's kisses) because he thought if he said the word "kiss" it might break down his defenses. Hah.

Well, little did Rey know that I had planned a little kissing surprise. You see, I didn't really want the whole world to spy on our first kiss--I mean, how unfair is that? So, for months I had been planning to kiss Rey on our wedding day, just not at the wedding.

My plan: Go pick him up super early on our wedding day and say there was something I had to show him. Drive him to a nearby walking path along a lake. Walk to a dock on the lake and take in the sunrise. Present him with a ring box that had a Hershey kiss inside and voila! Fireworks, baby. Right??

Everything went according to plan--until I gave him the ring box. He opened it and kind of chuckled before shutting it and putting it down. He went back to looking at the lake.

"Do you know what that means?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, heaving a big sigh. "I can't wait till the wedding this afternoon."

Me, moaning inwardly: "It's our wedding day."

Him: "Yeah, I know." Still enjoying the sunrise.

Ok, folks. To make a long story short--he totally didn't get that I meant, "Hey, baby--let's enjoy our wedding gift to each other now." He said he was just so used to telling his brain, "Nothing until the wedding" that the idea of a kiss then never came into his mind. So, don't worry. I showed him what I meant. Heheh.

Moving on. Took Rey back to the house he was staying at and I went back to mine. We had a wedding practice that morning, and then went back to our houses again to get ready for the event! The other surprise I had for Rey involved my entrance.

He had often mentioned how much he loved this song--and I thought it would be awesome to play as I came down the "aisle" (it was an outdoor wedding in a wooded area, so I actually walked down a wooded path and through the grass, the best kind of aisle!). I get kind of choked up just listening to it. :) It is a song based on the song of Solomon's "woman" in Song of Solomon. "If you see my beloved, tell him I sick from longing for him, and I can't sleep...."

The ceremony was perfect--in Spanish and English with songs sung by people dear to us. And, the rest, as they say, is history!

Our first anniversary:
Noah was 3 months old. The plan had been to leave him with one of Rey's younger sisters and go out to eat after Rey got off work. Noah spent the whole day screaming and not sleeping, so I didn't feel that I could leave him with someone else. So, Rey picked up some yummy eats from a restaurant and we watched our wedding video.

Second anniversary:
I was about 3 month pregnant with Aleni. My aunt and uncle watched Noah for the day and we went to a cool, mountainous area where we took in the sight, picnicked, and read each other reasons why we love each other. Watched the wedding video at night while we ate chicken Rey had grilled up.

Third anniversary:
Today! I find myself "un-pregnant" and without a newborn! ;) We are in the middle of moving house...and there is a 3-day evening conference at church we want to catch. So, we plan to copy another person's idea, and write each other new vows and read them to each other tonight. I'm thinking: Coffee, donuts, candlelight on the roof... It will be great!

I love our life. I love that we have 2 babies, and are on our 4th move in our 3 years of marriage. I love that we are more in love with each other and understand each other more than we did 3 years ago. I love that we still find each other ridiculously funny and that we still find each other to be the most attractive person we know.

I love that--after going through some high and low waters... after experiencing challenges that might have bent or broken some marriages--God has carried us, and I still respect and adore my husband without reserve.

Here's to 80 more years! ;)

The House Story

So... for those of you anxiously holding your breath to hear the story about our new abode (and I know there's a passel of you out there!)--here goes!

First: Why look for a new place?

We are now living in an apartment that has been graciously opened up (free of charge!) to us by the owner, who also happens to be the man that started the missionary work here in Fresnillo. It has been God-sent, because without it we would not have been able to be here working.

That being said, it is a 3rd floor apartment... and the building is still under construction. This has meant Noah can't wander around outside without me physically with him, or with constant checking on his safety. There are a total of 8 stair wells--some leading to the 5th floor which does not have walls between you and the ground below. Noah now navigates stairs pretty well, but it was a major hassle up until about a month ago. Now, I know his little sister is revving up her engines to get her crawl on any day now--and the "stair drama" will begin again.

Noah loves, loves, loves being outside. I think his ideal day would involve only coming inside to eat. I also love being outside and doing all kinds of landscaping. Or maybe just sitting and staring at the clouds, without feeling like I am being stared out.

Which brings up the privacy issue: We share our place with a family on the first floor--and whoever the visitor(s) of the week happens to be. Now, I love people: but, this just means I constantly feel on edge that me and my family are encroaching on someone else's "territory". And, since the place isn't really "ours"--we don't have any say in how things go.

Since we've been married, we've never had our own plot of earth. Our own place to put out the lawn chairs and stare up at the stars. Our own place to let Noah explore and touch every nook and cranny. Our own place to roll around and be silly without feeling-- strange. So, there's the "why".

Onto the "how".

Though we are still trusting God to supply in the way of monthly support, we have come to a place we feel that we can make monthly rent payments. We may not have a table to eat off of or dressers to put our clothes in--but! We will have our own space. And that, my friend, will be priceless!

After coming to that decision--we began the hunt. Asked all our friends to hunt with us. Drove around several afternoons, looking for "For Rent" signs. Got online and checked around there.

Ah! Dontcha want to know my hopes/dreams/requirements for the new house?

Well, I was willing to bend many of these ideals, but they were as follows:

• A one-storey house


• A patio with grass (almost everything here is wall-to-wall concrete)


• Somewhere we could see the mountains--so on the edge of town


• 3-4 bedrooms

Other things I'd hoped for included an outdoor water faucet, lots of windows, permission to paint at will...

Back to the hunt: So, we were looking everywhere, and it seemed that people only wanted to sell--not rent. Went to check out a great-sounding ad, and the house turned out to be a dump. Kept checking. Saw another nice-sounding ad, but it was a little out of our price range, so we decided to skip it. Kept looking. Checked out several other different leads, nothing.

You know, in searching, we kept finding houses that weren't at all what we were looking for, but I kept saying to myself, "Well.... I could make it work..." I finally came to the decision that the house God had for me would be perfect. That when I saw it, I would know it. Kinda like when you meet the man of your life, and you just know it.

I don't remember exactly why--but that "a little too expensive house" came back to my mind again, so I found the ad again. I called the number several times over a couple days before the lady answered.

She said the lawyer was out of town, but we could call him Monday (this was Friday). Did I realize the house was on an unpaved road? she asked. I didn't, but honestly that made it sound even better. The ad stated the neighborhood the house was in, but nothing else.

Something that annoys me about myself is how I obsess over something until it has closure. So, Sunday afternoon, we all went out for a drive and just happened to find ourselves in the neighborhood the house was in. Ha! Like looking for a needle in a haystack. Almost all the streets in that neighborhood are unpaved.

So, we drove around looking for "For Rent" signs and seeing nothing. We drove by one house that Rey mentioned looked "uninhabited" because the grass was knee high and there were no cars out front. (There were actually quite a few like that) We drove around for about another 30 minutes.

"No," Rey said, "Really, the only house around here that I've liked is that one I thought looked empty."

"Then let's go back there and ask around," I said.

So, we did. Rey asked one neighbor, who referred him to another neighbor, who referred him back to neighbor #1 who then referred him to another guy down the street...and so it went. While Rey was getting ping-ponged back and forth, Aleni slept peacefully in the car, and Noah and I explored and fell in love with the surrounding area. I mean, hey--at the end of the street is a huge field with the mountains as a backdrop....

Rey didn't find anything too certain-sounding. We looked at the house through the fence and I said it was perfect. Remember that, "I just know it" feeling? I had it, and I giggled to Rey: "How crazy would it be if this house that we love is the same one that is in that ad we are going to call about tomorrow?"

Pretty crazy, Rey thought.

So, Monday morning we called. They gave us the address for the place and we drove out there to see it. We turned onto the street that the house from Sunday was on... and it was the name of the street the lawyer gave us! The excitement grew. Now to find the number.... It looked like the number was going to be a house at the end of the street--way past the house--but, I consoled myself, I still love this area.

Actually, we couldn't find the number at all. Rey called the lawyer and told him. The lawyer told him where the house was by describing the ones around it. We found ourselves standing in front of the house. It was the one! (Turns out "they" had come through and changed the house numbers).

Can you imagine how giddy I was? It was almost nauseating.

So, yes. That's the house story... of course now we are in the craziness of trying to get the house liveable around the schedules of a 2 yr old and a 8 month old. So far, we are doing shifts. I go from about 1 to 5 and Rey goes from about 6 to 10. Mornings are spent getting supplies, and tiring out the kids!

Hey--if you've got a good arm for painting or sanding, we could sure use you!

Church today...

So, today is church day.

I know, we clean up niiiice.

For some reason, the last 3 weeks or so, Noah has started this new thing. He'll be having the best morning, and be really happy to be going "bye-bye"--and then he'll realize we are turning down the street to church, and he'll go off. Screaming in holy (get it? "holy"?) terror. Twisting in his car seat like he would physically like to change the direction of the car. The only reason we can figure out for this is that there is a lady in the church that he is completely and unequivocally scared of. She looks a little like this:

I don't think there is anything wrong with the old soul--but since we started going to this church (over a year and a half ago), Noah hides whenever he sees her. She's had something like 15 children. She always wears a large shawl over her head, and shuffles along with a hunched back.

The problem is, 9 times out of 10, this woman is in the nursery with her granddaughter, and that means Noah won't go in there. Or, if she happens to come in after he's already there, playing happily--he looks up, then runs to me as fast as he can, wedging himself between me and the wall. He won't pull himself out or look at anyone until she leaves. It is so weird.

So, anyways. Now, he starts screaming from the time he realizes where we are headed. Today, we got him out of the van to him saying, "No, no, no, no..." and then he bolted away from the church, towards home. When I said we needed to go to church, he laid on the sidewalk and howled. He howled all the way into church as I carried him in and, once there, kept pulling my hand to take him back out. Daddy distracted him with some snacks, and then it was on to the service.

Noah loves the music part, so he was soon busy dancing and imitating the drummer.

During the sermon, usually one of us is downstairs with Noah and the other is with Aleni. This time, Rey took Noah down to see a puppet show they were putting on for the kiddos.

In the sermon today, the preacher was talking about how God created the perfect "pharmacy" in the fruits and veggies He made. She said that God gave us "hints" as to what the vegetation was good for. For example, carrots, when cut in slices, look like the eye--and that's what they are good for. Other things: Avocado is in the shape of the womb, good for "women things". Tomato is like the heart (has 4 "chambers", is red)--and it's good for it. All kinds of interesting examples. The one that had me consciously keeping a straight face was the good old fig. She said, "They grow in pairs and are filled with seeds." Can you figure it out? It's good for "guy stuff"--combats male infertility.

I didn't giggle then, but always on the way home from church, the one that heard the sermon shares it with the one that didn't. I told Rey the highlights, and when I got to that part, I was laughing like a Jr. High boy.

After we got home, Rey said he was running to the store. To get some stuff. To make fig smoothies. Ewww... I gotta figure out what the "anti-fig" is!

Sometimes.... I just need to lift up my hands and say, "Hallelujah, Lord. Humble me!"

Community

Isn't it interesting how being with people and having a good time causes one to have a certain "buzz" to them? Like, when you've been with a group of friends and been living it up and then come into a quiet house--don't you notice that you bring a whole energy field with you? The silence seems to crash around you in stark difference to the excited interchanges that you'd just been a part of...

I must say at this time and place, Rey brings a lot more of that energy into the house--meaning: he is rubbing shoulders with "big people" all the time. Many times he comes home with this "smell of people" on him. The lightness of shared jokes, words interchanged and general community.

I must also say that often--when I get that "whiff" of people, I find myself stiffening internally. The correct word may be "resentment". Not in huge, life-altering doses. More like a few drops of resentment, as I more thoroughly feel the weight of not having rubbed shoulders with "big" people; not having exchanged jokes/concerns/hopes/life; not experiencing community. I also find myself wanting to squelch the happy weightlessness of his mood: give him "that" look and sigh as I shuffle off to bed.

Sounds like a healthy solution, right? I know my situation may be a little extreme, but I also know I am not the only momma of babies that struggles with the huge loss of girlfriends, adult conversations and freedoms.

The good thing is I am learning what an energy boost healthy community brings and that it is vital to my health to do whatever it takes to get my weekly (daily?) bucketful of it. Even if it takes humbling myself and asking for help--maybe my chores are keeping me from being able to get out for coffee. Would it be the worst thing to hire someone to help out? Might make my pride cringe a bit--but it would be worth it. Community may take flexibility on my part, it may require me to relax and let the schedule go a little. It may be inconvenient--and even be offensive-- at times. But, it is necessary.

Where do you feel you are on your interaction meter??

Sign of the Times

"You know you're getting older when" #519:


Makeup is a necessity as opposed to a pastime.

Workin It

Last night, Rey and I had one of those conversations that I'd felt coming for a while. You know... those conversations. It wasn't the funnest of topics--but, what was great was getting maybe a little closer to understanding what makes each of us tick.

Did you know you can figure out a lot about a person's take on life--or at least work philosophy--by how they eat??

Our conversation was about our completely-different-not-even-similar ways of going at a job list. I think: Make a list, prioritize, do it. He thinks.... hmmm. What was going on in there? It seemed that he had no sense of time management, no sense of level of priority.

It was driving me bonkers.

So, after scooting around the issue for quite some time, we began to talk about "what is the deal"? In the conversation, I was talking about just "getting things done and over with". In that theme, I talked about how (especially as a kid) when I was presented with a plate of food, I would visually divide it into food I didn't like, food I liked, and food I loved. I would always start with the food I hated to get it over with, and end with the food I loved to reward myself. My thought was, "Get it out of the way".

Ya know what Rey said? He said when he was in the same situation, he started off with food he liked, then went to the food he hated, and then ended up with food he liked. That he needed to sandwich the bad between the good.

And that, my friends, basically summarized our work philosophies. While I tend to think the more yucky stuff needs to get done right away and quickly, Rey has to mentally get himself into the position to do the yucky by doing another task he enjoys.

See, that's another thing. Rey enjoys working. He looses himself in his work and comes out on the other side with a big grin on his face.

I, on the other hand, work with a tyrant in my brain. The tyrant says, "Get off your butt, ya big lazy slob. Don't you see those dishes stacked up and the dirt on the floor? What are you? A filthy good-for-nothin'---"--you get the idea.

When Rey works, he thinks flowers and butterflies (I asked him!).

Ahh, and the clashing begins. I, angry from trying to escape the pushy, judgemental motivator in my head, begin chafing as I watch Rey happily spending 5 hours on a job I would have done in 20 minutes.

Rey, being yanked from his tranquil scrubbing by a scowling face and a "hurry-it-up-wouldja" attitude, sinks into anger mixed with frustration. "What's her problem? I'm being productive, aren't I?"

He's enjoying the good so he can eventually enjoy the bad, while I am just rushing to get it over with and move on. I really can't imagine enjoying most of the work I do. Rey says I should just stop doing things unless I really want to do them. He says it is evident when I am doing things without the "want to".

Maybe I can't stop changing diapers, scrubbing the floor or cleaning the toilet--but his attitude towards work makes me think of "whatever you do, do it heartily ['with your heart'] as to the Lord." Rey says when he does do something, it's coming from a heart-desire to do it.

I often work because I feel it is expected of me. I feel that I will be judged if I don't and that I will be a lesser person. I work for compliments and recognition. I work from a fear of failure. I work, and feel that no matter what, it's not enough.

It is interesting to look back and see what shapes ones view of work. I can see where I got many of my feelings towards work--and am working at trying to see my daily tasks through new eyes.

What about you? How do you empty your plate?

It's kind of obvious....

I was reading this book for the second (maybe third) time, and came to the chapter called "Maternal Gatekeepers". I thought maybe it would be about how great it us that us mommas are like angry bears keeping any and all things away from our cubs.

Well, the angry bear part was right, but not so much the "great" part. You see, the author was speaking to those of us who feel as though only we know the exact right way to wipe our kid's nose, change his diaper, nourish his body. Those of us ask our husbands to do something--and then hover over their shoulders, ready to "assist" (read "correct") at any needed time.

How humiliating. Do we not remember we are sharing the house with another adult? Another person so exceedingly wise and brilliant--that we decided to pledge our lives to him? Isn't it amazing, then, that we often don't even stop to think that maybe his "different" is ok, or maybe even (heaven forbid) better than our way?

I speak to myself. I often am that mother bear. I often am the person that says, "Hon, can you turn on a movie for Noah? Nooo... not that one, he just saw it." Or, "Can you take him on a walk? Hey, be careful he doesn't fall..." Just to name a few.

Me, thinking: I'm just helping. Me, really sending the message: You're incompetent.

I've begun to step back. To button my lip. To let him parent. To praise every chance I get. To take his side over the children's-- every time. When daddy's in charge, daddy's in charge. No intervention (read "criticism") from mommy.

And ya know what? A huge burden has slipped from my shoulders. And a feeling of respect for my man is replacing the furrowed brow of imagined mistakes. I no longer fume inwardly about "parenting" 3 people. I look at my husband and see him as my love, not my annoyance.

He says he likes it, too.

Here

It's 8:30 pm. For me, my day's work as a momma is virtually over. It is a time when it feels as though a great load has slid from my shoulders. I breathe more deeply, relax.

I went up to our 4th floor roof/patio to bring in the laundry off the line. The sky is still brightened by the setting sun, clouds are rimmed in silvery gold light. Lights are beginning to twinkle on in the houses spread out below me. The city streets and buildings are adorned with a palm tree or two, mesquite here and potted plants there. Cars seem to drive slower, families walk by hand-in-hand, children's voices at play waft up to me on the breeze.

I love this view: the city hemmed in by mountains all around. When I spend time up here on the roof, staring out beyond the city to the mountains, my mind drifts to Rey. To the communities there, beyond. To the natural beauty that lies just 10 minutes drive outside the city in any direction. I never grow tired of gazing at the countryside in the place we live.

Unclipping onesies and t-shirts from the clothesline, I say a prayer for our city, for the cities around us. And for Rey. And, inevitably, I realize a question is playing in my mind:

But, what am I here for?

Not "here", as in alive on earth. But here, as in Fresnillo instead of somewhere else. Am I supposed to be here? What difference is my being here making, as opposed to living--say--where I was born and raised?

Staying at home with my little darlings wasn't exactly what I had imagined when I dreamed of adventurous missionary life as a girl. No, I was supposed to be hacking through the jungles and saving orphan children from disaster! Missionaries don't just stay home, changing diapers and wiping spit-up off their shirts while singing, "It's raining, it's pouring". They don't just mop the floors and prepare their meals while their husbands are out "doing the work"--do they?

I have thought about how "inconvenient" this specific kind of missionary work is for the stage of life I am in. Rey travels to communities that can be up to 5 hours away--one way! Many of these communities are still in the "street evangelism stage". Real conducive to nap-times and good, healthy meals! Now, if we were planting a church... I muse....

However, I have found a place of contentment in this: It's real simple. I am here because I am obeying God's call. I am here because I am Rey's support. I am here because I am the mother, the teacher, the molder, the stability of our two children. I am here. And I am a missionary. And it is an adventure.

And, those clothes I got off the line? I'd better go fold them now.

Cultural Relativity

It can be odd at times-- this blending in when there's really no possible way you can blend in. Like a horse clucking in a group of chickens. It's a nice effort, but you can spot the odd man out right away.

And that's what I am, for the most part. The odd woman. I like to think I am in, not out. It is so un-American to try to accommodate or become like another culture. To consider that possibly their way of doing things may have a reason behind it--or even be better than how I was raised to do it.

I fluctuate between thinking, "Don't create noise" and "Hey, yeah! I'm weird, your weird-- so how's the weather?" In other words, it is a daily learning to be comfortable in my own skin in a place where I am virtually the only one wearing my kind of skin. Or language. Or customs.

Things are harder here, and generally much simpler. I often find myself trying to downplay my "American-ess", and then questioning if that is right. For example: I have a strong liking for interior decorating, for making what was ugly and un-livable into something beautiful and functional. Decorating isn't really a "thing" here, so a well-decorated house (although humble by American standards) can come off as "rich". Recently, I found myself actually trying to hang pictures in a hodge-podge manner so it would look more "Mexican" and not so "decorated". I had to fix them an hour later.

The other day a friend came by, and said, "You live here? An American? I mean, I thought it would be a mansion or something--like in the US." I jokingly said, "What? You don't think my house is pretty?" Giving a cursory glance around her, she said, "To be honest, noooo." And I felt my chest swelling with happiness.

Why? Because I know that means I am now more accessible to her. There is always an automatic assumption here: American = rich. And, I think that is what keeps many people from coming to my house or wanting me over to theirs. They think they will be embarrassed by my wealth.

And, that's what it is all about. Presenting an accessible "me" to people here. It isn't a "different" me, but it is me in a way that doesn't intimidate people or unconsciously send them a message of superiority.

Hence. I find myself on this invisible fence... between trying to dress and present myself in a non-pretentious way to my neighbors here--and trying not to feel horribly frumpy and behind the times when I get back to the US. So, if you spot me somewhere, looking a little wild-eyed and bewildered... just chalk it up to the craziness that happens to us that have a feet planted in two very separate worlds.

Fragility

Today, a friend and I visited another friend (Beatriz) who has been told she is in the last stages of cancer. Beatriz is a hard-working woman who has been sick for many months, but has defiantly kept going out with Rey to evangelize in the communities and continued hosting a Feeding Center in her home on Saturday mornings, as well as keeping up with household duties.

We found her curled in the fetal position, in a coat and under thick blankets--although the house was comfortably warm. She'd been at the hospital all morning doing tests, and was resting before going back in the afternoon for results and more tests.

She talked about the stages of emotions she has been through--disbelief, utter despair, anger... and now... she feels at peace with God. Hopeful that He will heal her, and ready to submit to whatever happens.

As we visited and prayed with her, I thought of how fragile indeed is this life. How we truly have no control over it. How everything seems to come into stark focus when we are grasping at that thin thread that is life.

Since I am somewhat of a hopeless, sappy romantic, I have a playlist entitled "Romantic Songs". Yes, I do. I was listening to it, and this song came on... and unbidden tears pricked my eyes.

I am thankful to live in a home where "I love you's" float around in the air like the flies in my kithen... It was the idea of the unknown, the "what if" that caught my emotion tonight.

Let's live today well, shall we?

It's a marathon, folks

Things have been whirling along a break-neck speed ever since Aleni was born. And really, it's mostly none of her fault, since she is about the easiest baby in the world.

Most days, I stumble off to bed feeling tired to the bone, yet having finished nothing. It seems that the to-do list only gets longer and the minutes get shorter. That the harder we run, the less we accomplish.

I have heard myself whispering (if only to myself) "Once things slow down...." Telling myself this is a soon-ending state of affairs. Somewhat like the mental difference of running a marathon and sprinting 200 meters. One you dig deep and settle into a steady pace that you can hold for a loooong time... and the other you suck in a deep gulp of air and go for it.

Today, I was showering and thinking, "Once things slow down a little--" and then I stopped. An image flashed into my mind of a person I know that often heaves a heavy-hearted and suffering sigh as they mouthed those same words. Over days, months, and years. A lifetime, really. Of not enjoying the present--of looking ever-longingly into a future that never came.

It then hit me: This is the new normal. This is my pace, my stride, my race. I need to wrap my mind around that, get into a rhthym I can sustain for however long it takes--and figure out how to thrive in it.

Now to find that rhthym.

Faddish

I know it may be somewhat of a craze or a fad at this point... but all this talk about "going green", eating as close to the source as possible, taking care of the planet (you know what I'm talking about) has been seeping in to my consciousness, and I've begun to try to make small changes.

I'm not one to jump into thing that seem to be the "in" thing at the moment. I usually try to sidle in sideways while looking another direction, hoping no one notices. I hate being accused of copying. Originality at all costs.

I also lack the concentration and discipline (and perhaps time!) to become an extremist at anything. Mostly, I try to do what I can and don't stress about it. Or, often I just forget!

However, here in Mexico, I think I may be a little easier to become a "conservationalist" to some extent. Man, they are not into throwing things away and they know how to re-use a thing all the way to its death bed. At first, I may have been seen rolling my eyes at what I perceived to be "hoarding". "Get rid of the junk, people!" I might have said once or twice.

And it might be hoarding for some, for others it is seeing potential in something we might just see as garbage.

So, I am trying more.

For example, we have some faucets that are "drippers". I used to just crank them as tight as I could and dismiss it to Rey's to-do list. Now, I keep bowls below the faucets and the water is used to water my flowers, wash the dishes or fill the bath tub. I've also started giving Noah baths in our baby tub as opposed to our humongous bathtub. A lot less water used there. Ah, and bath water then becomes mop water. I haven't thought of a way to re-use the black mop water. It goes down the toilet.

Another small thing I have started doing is saving plastic food containers. I never liked how it looked to have yogurt and margarine containers mixed in with my Tupperware... but, hey! It's functional. And since dishes hardly ever come back when you send food to people, I can use those and not feel even a twinge of annoyance at the thought of never laying my eyes on them again.

There's all kinds of other stuff I think about doing: making/freezing baby food, learning how to can, making laundry soap. I usually think about it, and then get discouraged in thinking about the time and MESS (noooo mooooore messes please!!) it would involve. So, those are still just in the thought stage now.

I have started "making" my own beans, now. As opposed to buying cans. I don't know if it is the altitude/dryness here, but wowsers those things have to boil forever. Like 5 hours. So then I am tabulating if the cost of gas is coming out to be the same as the cost of the can? Anyone else have this problem? It is also true with cooking rice-- here I have to use 3 times the amount of water as rice... as opposed to 2. I digress...

Well, tell me what kind of planet/health-friendly things you are doing these days. Keep in mind I can't commit to something that takes a lot of time at this point. Simple ideas would be highly appreciated!!! :)

Thanks for the Reminder

This morning, Rey, Noah and I went down to the cafeteria area on the floor below ours to have coffee with a group of Americans that was leaving at noon. Our pleasantries were interrupted by the arrival of a fellow missionary and the adult daughter of our downstairs neighbors. I will call her Mariela. As I greeted Mariela, I asked her how she was--noting it seemed she'd been crying and that there were dark circles under her eyes. She said she was good.

She asked if she could say something to the group. Now, this group has been coming down and supporting many works here in Fresnillo for over 10 years, so she has known them for awhile--if only from afar. Weeping, she first thanked the group for their faithful love and support, and then began to share of the deep hurt and pain she was feeling. Her father has been in ministry all her life, and she shared how her and her sister never felt like he had time for them. That they were always last on his list, never remembered. She said that they felt damaged, heart-broken and hurt. Mariela said just yesterday, her dad had told her he was sick of ministry and was just going to get out of it for good.

"If that is true, what value was all this??" she cried to us, "What did it matter all we suffered?"

As she poured out her heart to us, tears were also pouring down my own cheeks. You see, before deciding to go into ministry full-time, Rey and I agreed on one thing: Family before ministry. We can make all kinds of mistaken decisions, pour our time into wrong places--but what we invest in our children will never be in vain.

We all prayed over Mariela, asking God to pour out His healing love in her heart and lift her up. I prayed these things, and I also prayed that not one of my children would find themselves in her position 10, 15, 20 years from now.

Family is our ministry.

Fast, then Faster

"In the middle of the night,
Miss Clavel turned on her light
And said, 'Something is not right!'
And afraid of disaster
Miss Clavel ran fast
And even faster."
--From Madeline by L. Bemelmans

These lines have been rattling through my brain the last couple days, ya wanna know why?

He is three foot tall, has the cutest dimples you'll ever see and answers to the name of Noah.

Gracious, he has had my hair standing on end.

Like this one:

We have a balcony outside our front door here on the 3rd floor. There happen to be 3 stair wells, 2 near our front door, and one at the far end of the hall. Rey put up doors on the stairs close to our door, but Noah never was interested in going down to the other end, so Rey left that one uncovered (That, and other projects caused it to never get a door). Well, that stair well goes up to the "still-under-construction" part of the building--the roof/5th floor.

This fine day, Noah and I had been playing in his room. I went to get a movie out of the closet to put on for him and he came pattering after me. He didn't see me, and went on by. I put the movie in, expecting him to start calling for me. He didn't, so I went to check on Aleni.

Then, I heard rocks being thrown. Now, there are blocks on the "safe roof/patio" above us that he likes to play with, so I went up to see how he was. He wasn't there, but I continued to hear the thumping noise. So, I ran back down into the apartment and re-checked his room. No, and thud, thud. My room, the closets, Aleni's room, the bathroom. No. Where....?? Then my heart stopped--did he go up that other stairs?? I ran fast, and then faster, up to the 4th floor. Didn't see him, but the thuds were louder. Up to the fifth floor/roof. And there stood my little prince, grabbing broken pieces of bricks and blocks, hurling them, and watching them fall the 5 floors to the ground below.

This floor, as I said, is being constructed. So it is that--a floor. No walls. Noah was literally standing with his toes on the edge of this storey looking down, down, down to the cement patio below. My heart turned to stone and my hands tingled with fear. I calmly said, "Hey, little man, having fun?" not wanting to startle him as I slowly moved towards him. Ah, the relief of swooping him up in my arms and rushing him back down to our apartment.

Thank You, Lord for being with our children when we aren't.

Or this:

Yesterday, I made some oatmeal cookies. Noah had one when he woke up from his nap. He really liked it, and a while later came over a grabbed one off of my friend's plate. "No, Noah," I said, "I want you to eat supper before you have any more cookies." He already had a bite in his mouth, a opened his mouth to let out a scream of anger at not getting what he wanted. In so doing, he inhaled the bit of cookie he had there.

He started coughing. I had Aleni in one arm, so I lifted his arm to help him pass the bite. He kept coughing and gagging. He has a tendency to overreact when he coughs, so I was just saying, "It's ok, you can do it". Suddenly, his face turned completely purple. And at that, I lost all feeling in my body. I rushed to lay Aleni on the couch and kneeled beside Noah, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He was beginning to go limp as his blue lips kept moving with his effort to cough and tears streaked down his face. The only thing I could think to do was to check his throat to see if I could feel the blockage. The little chunk of cookie was there, wedged at the entrance to his throat. It probably wasn't the right thing to do (the Heimlich maneuver did not even enter my mind), but I wiggled my finger around the piece to dislodge it. The house around me melted away as every sense funneled into my little boy. Come on, come on.... and it was out. And Noah was gasping, and coughing and crying. And his face was becoming white, and then pink. And we snuggled on the couch together with Blankey.

Thank You, Lord, for saving my baby's life--even if I do all the wrong things.

So, these things may help you understand why this cool morning found me leaping from the shower as it was still running, my face white with Noxema, and streaking up to the roof patio with a towel wrapped around me. I had heard a nearby scream from Noah (which he does a lot when he is imitating someone on a movie), but I didn't hear anything else, so I kept sudsing. Then, I heard what sounded like a call from help--but far away.

No! Don't tell me--he's outside in trouble?? I ran out of the bathroom. "Noah??" And I heard a replying noise, but it sounded muffled. The front door was shut... had he gotten stuck somewhere on the patio? So, I cast an eye at his empty bedroom and then shot up the stairs and outside (thank goodness the neighbor was gone). No Noah up there. Back down the stairs. "Noah, Noah???" No answer. Still not in his room, or any rooms. Start checking the closets. Opened his closet, and 2 brown eyes looked calmly up at me as chubby little hands held the blanket up to his cheek. He stepped around me dismissively, and sat down to play with his cars. "Your welcome..." I called out to his back.

Thank You, Lord, for protecting my babies even when they're not in danger.

Hats off to you, Miss Clavel. I don't know how you did it.

Fancy Feathers

Heard whistling from the street below, so I stuck my head out of our 3rd floor window to look down. Saw the coolest thing: Two guys walking. Each of them had strapped onto their backs these leaning towers of at least 10 bird cages--full of an exquisitely colored bunch of birds! They each carried a stick in their hands upon which were sitting these bright green parrots.

They walked, the towers swayed along with their movement. The parrots danced, scurried and played on their perches. They whistled and the birds chirped back. And I watched until they were long gone.

I think that is what Rey and I will do when we are big.