expressing love...

It was during one of our last weeks in Mexico. The decision to leave was bearing heavily on our hearts--although we felt convinced that it was the right choice.

Many of our friends there, although motivated by love, were saying things that weren't making the leaving any easier. When we stated we needed to get help for Noah, they said there wasn't anything wrong with Noah. And then gave us all kinds of other options. "I went to a man who is so good with aligning the personalities of people. He can sense things... Like, maybe when Noah was in your womb, he didn't feel love from you. So, you can go and this man does hold therapy. Where you can hug Noah tightly and heal that rift that happened..." 

Or, when we stated that--plain and simple--we weren't even close to making it financially, some criticized our faith. "You just need to believe harder!" When we said, "What if God is purposefully shutting that door to guide us back Stateside?", they would shake their heads emphatically.

I also struggled with feeling misunderstood. The times were few and far between that I was able to travel out to the communities with Rey, and I often felt that was not well-looked upon by many.

So, it was hard. Jumping into a lot of unknowns... dealing with the really hard place we were in with Noah and our finances... trying to sell off everything and work out all the details of moving to a different country--I was feeling completely drained. On less than empty, really.

We were invited to a small house church a friend of ours helped to pastor. Rey shared a sermon that day. Towards the end of the service, people were going to the front for a time of prayer. I stood near my seat, praying silently and listening to the music.

Suddenly, I felt gentle hands press on my back. I heard the voice of a dear, older woman who faithfully served in the outreaches to the communities. She prayed loudly, as the music pounded around us, that God would wrap me in his arms. That he would uphold me as I upheld my husband. That he would give me wisdom as I mothered our children. "Because, father, we all see she really is a wonderful mother..." That he would give me peace as I went into an unknown situation. And, then, she said: "God, we place Noah into your hands. May they find the help they need for this precious boy. Heal his mind and body and give his parents what they need to raise him...." And then, folks, it was all over. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I began to sob uncontrollably. To hear such words of affirmation, comfort and love spoken over me was like water onto parched soil.

As other women in the church saw my state, more encircled me... placing their hands on me and lifting high prayers for God's comfort, strength and healing. It was an amazing, unforgettable moment. A moment that I so felt God's love for me through the hands and prayers of these women. A moment that taught me... that I need to be like that one woman who acted on what I can only imagine was God's whisper to her: "Go pray for Liz."

Who do I need to be praying for today? Do I need to pray for them from my home? Or face to face with them? What about you? Who is someone in your circle that could be so renewed by truly being seen by you?

I pray we don't hold back from expressing love when we have the opportunity.

remembering...and thankful

 Noah getting a bucket bath outside, when we ran out of water inside

I hesitate to post this... afraid that my rememberings will in some way appear like I am saying what we had before was bad and what we have now is good. Not at all. In both places, we were/are above and beyond blessed and held in God's hand.  Every experience plays a part in the tapestry of our lives, and I feel that remembering is a part of contentment, gratefulness. I don't want to forget what it was like... nor what it may be like again if/when God sees fit to take us back where we were....

Every time I bump the temperature button up or down a few degrees, I remember. I remember living first in a climate that the highs reached to 104 much of the year... the nights that cooled down to the 80s. I remember the house was made of cement, hemmed into a row of other cement houses and that there was hardly ever a breeze I could get to come through the windows. I remember not having an air conditioner there for several months, at the end of my pregnancy. Keeping the curtains pulled shut all day long, hoping to keep the house cooler. Dragging the mattress out to the living room floor at night, hoping for more of a breeze. Sweating all the time, cold showers in the middle of the night to try to cool down. I remember filling a bucket with water and ice, sitting with my feet in the water--thinking cold thoughts. We did finally get an air conditioning unit, used from Rey's boss, and installed it in the bedroom. The bedroom was a glorious cold. We kept that poor machine on high day and night most of the time. It managed to keep the rest of the house a tepid temperature.

I remember the cold, how it came with the rain... causing the wall to pour down with condensation. Hot cement meeting with a rapid temperature drop. One wall unit blasting on Noah's crib, keeping him bundled, his crib swaddled in thick quilts.

I remember the next house we lived in, much more comfortable. It was 3rd floor, so there was much more of a breeze. The cold months were a little harder, but not bad with a large, gas heater we were given.

The third house, we found, would burn like a toaster oven as the sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling (uninsulated) windows. Noah would wake up from his nap with nose bleeds from the heat. In the cold months, those same windows made keeping it warm a near impossibility. I remember trying (highly dangerous) inventions involving metal piping from the gas heater to the kids rooms. Sleeping in several layers of clothes, a bathrobe, socks.

I remember basically dealing with living in a house just about the same temperature as it was outdoors. So now, as I adjust our family's temperature comfort with a mere pressure of my fingertip, I stop and say "thanks". Not because it is better, because it is so much easier.  

I also am grateful for insulated windows and doors that don't gap open at the bottom. The houses I lived in never had insulated windows and hardly ever had screens. The doors leading to the outdoors usually had about an 1" gap between the floor and the door. One time, as I was reading, I looked up to see a mouse run in under the door. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Keeping a clean house was pretty much a laugh with the dust blowing in from everywhere.

I have it so easy now.

Every house I lived in before had roof issues. The rain would discover leaks in the roof, and we would wander around the house placing buckets, emptying others. No such problems now.

In the first house we lived, we didn't have a water heater for several months. Hot showers are quite possibly the "thing" I can't live without, so it was sad there for a while ;) When we did have a water heater, we conserved gas by only lighting it about 20 minutes before a shower. As soon as we were done, we would go turn off the flame. The water heaters were always located outside, so it would involve a quick check to make sure no neighbors were lurking around to catch me with crazy bed hair and in pajamas. It also meant that if I needed to do an "emergency" bath with the kiddos (think spit-up, mud, whatever kids do), it was often quicker to just boil up a pot of water on the stove and add it in to their cold bath water. I also washed dishes in cold water..... Now, every time I turn the hot water faucet, hot water comes out. Glorious.

In the houses I lived before, there was always "issues" with the water and electricity supply. In some places, the electricity would go off for a couple hours every week, without warning. Sometimes for days at a time. The same with the water. Most houses have a water tank attached to them. Some fill constantly, some once a day. Sometimes the water would be out for days at a time. Just disappear mid-shower or while running a load of laundry. Haven't had that happen yet here.

The clothes dryer! On sunny days, I often miss hanging out the laundry (a clothesline was one of the first things we installed at this new house)... but, when the weather is bad--or even just for convenience--how nice it is to, again, just push a button and--voila: dry clothes.

There were big stretches of time that I didn't have a vehicle. That made for long days with nowhere to go! And, speaking of places to go... I often struggled with finding places to take the babies even when I did have a vehicle. Things definitely were not as "kid-friendly" and even playgrounds often looked like attempts to get rid of children (broken glass, broken equipment, holes). Now, I have a vehicle...and places to go!

Also, I was often warned against going out "alone". Sometimes, it wasn't the safest thing to be an American girl out and about. Sometimes it wasn't a safety issue as much as an "annoyance" issue (read: drunk guys trying to get chatty). So, even if I had a place in mind and a way to get there, I would usually be trying to make sure it might be at a "safe" time of day to be able to get out and enjoy it. Now, such thoughts don't even cross my mind.

I guess my point in remembering all these things is--I don't ever want to forget what it was like. I don't ever want to become dependent on "easy". I don't want "easy" to become my idol. I don't want comfort to become a god. I want to be content--in plenty and in lack. I want to be grateful--for the central heat/air...and for the drafty doors. I love being able to experience such different things in life. And I want them to remain that way-- experiences. Not good or bad. Not rights or necessities. Not curses or badges of honor. In both places, I am in God's will.... and I love how He carries us. I love His adventures.

diatribe... or just a straight-up rant

I could feel the anger surging through my body. Waves of hot anger made my heart beat insanely fast. My hands turned ice cold, yet they were sweating profusely. I kept my eyes on the floor, struggling to calm my breathing and think through a rational response.

The setting was an unlikely spot for such an emotional moment: A small group discussion following a financial class that my man and I are taking. (An aside: The class is awesome, radical and life-changing. We heart the Ramsey.) Some members of the group were discussing how it can be a struggle for them to continue making wise financial decisions when they see people around them with much more, much nicer stuff.

As people commented on the topic, I remembered how, while I was living in Mexico, many of my friends and neighbors commented on how wealthy the US is. How they longed to live in a place as rich as that. Asking me how I could live in Mexico after living in the US. Although there are many answers to that question, I always thought about how much of our "wealth" isn't really "ours". In other words, how much of the stuff Americans have has been purchased with "fake money"-- aka: credit cards. Think about it--if there was no credit, what would our cars look like? Our houses? Our wardrobe? It is (for me) an interesting thought.

And so, I made a mistake. I opened my mouth and shared that perspective. That, for me... thinking about reality keeps me grounded. I'd rather have less--but completely paid for--than have more... with piles of debt. And, I told them about the conversation I'd often have with my Mexican companions--ending with the words: "So, it makes me wonder if we didn't have credit cards, maybe we'd look a lot more like Mexico."

At this, another member of the group exploded. He'd been furiously clicking a pen in each hand as I talked, and by the time I finished, his legs were bouncing crazily. He threw himself back against the sofa he was sitting in as he burst out, "I completely disagree! To say that Mexico could be anything like the US is completely incorrect and uninformed. Mexico is just a bunch of drug dealers all waiting around for a hand out. You see, here in the US we want to better ourselves. Better our lives. There, they just wait around on others to give them what they need. And, they have that corrupt government that is just teaching them even more bad ways. If we didn't have credit, we'd just work harder to get what we need. In fact, credit cards are like what gives us hope. We can get it, and then pay it off. There, the Mexicans don't even hope for things, so that's why there isn't any advancement. Really, a lot of the things they do they are just trying to copy off of us and they can't do it very well. To say that they could be anything like us is just wrong. Mexicans have completely lost all sense of integrity--unless perhaps you go way out into the rural areas. But, as a whole--there is no integrity." And with a few more clicks of his pens, he sat back and crossed his arms. "So, I completely disagree."

Even as I write his words, I can feel the anger simmering within yet again. I wanted to leap off of my chair and throttle the self-assured and ignorant person by the throat. Seriously? You think you know Mexico? So, you lived there? So, you have close friends who are Mexicans? So, you speak Spanish and keep informed by watching Mexican newscasts? And, above all- sir!! Do you not have eyes?? My HUSBAND is a MEXICAN! Do you have no sense of tact whatsoever? Ok, have your completely off-base and WRONG opinions about a WHOLE COUNTRY... but at least have the decency to keep your mouth shut when you see a person from that country within earshot.

It made me mention to Rey that it is people like him who cause other countries to hate the US. Of course, this man is an extreme version--but a lot of non-Americans feel that Americans feel towards them as Mr. Clickerpens feels. That they are so below, so corrupt, so un-American.

I'm sorry, sir. You know nothing. Yes, Mexico lives under the daily weight of dealing with a corrupt info structure. Yes, Mexico trembles beneath the power of a ruthless and cruel dictatorship by the drug people. But, not wanting to better their lives? No integrity? Not like us Americans in any way? Please. Go live in Mexico for a few years, earning the typical Mexican wage, receiving the typical Mexican health-care, fighting the typical Mexican legalities. And, then come back and tell me how superior your American spirit was in those circumstances than those of your neighbors. I can rest assured that I will be talking to a man with new-found respect for his Mexican neighbors. Who actually can really know what he's talking about. And who will have learned just how much those "ignorant and backwards people south of the border" know than he does.

Rant finished.

insights from selling

I have to wonder sometimes. Does selling stuff sound like a fun hobby? Cuz, it's not.

It's actually pretty draining.

The great thing is, this Friday we will take our stuff downtown to sell for the last time (hopefully!). I took stuff out into our front yard to sell today... now I just need to load it all into the van so it is ready for our Friday sale (I know Friday sounds a ways off... but with Rey being gone the next couple of days, I won't be selling again--and he won't have much time between getting back and going to sell, so...).

It will feel good to get that huge pile of stuff out of my house forever!

The thing about selling, is it has a way of really revealing what people are like deep down inside. Often, I'd rather not know.

Like the young hip-looking lady who handed me a pile of clothing she wanted to purchase. Only problem is, she'd switched all the price tags. Shirts that had been marked as being $2-3, she had switched to $0.50--every single one of them. I just sighed and told her how sorry I was that someone had switched all the tags and proceeded to tell her the correct prices.

Or the lady that brought me up 2 pairs of shoes--each were marked around $3. "If I buy both of them, will you give them to me for $4?" she asked. "Sure," I said. I then saw her with one pair of shoes, telling Rey that I'd told her she could have it for $2. I told Rey the deal had been if she bought 2 pairs of shoes, and then the woman went into some rant trying to cover herself.

Or, the lady that was rapping on my gate this afternoon. I'd been out back hanging up laundry. Her daughters had been at the gate just a few moments before, wanting to see the puppies. I had showed them the puppies and chatted for about 15 minutes before saying farewell and trying to get the houeswork done. So, I'd heard noise at the gate, but thought it was still the girls looking at the puppies. When I came around front, the adult neighbor looked angrily at me. "With all this time you've left me here standing, I might as well just leave." Well, then.

There are tons of people who just plant themselves in front of me, huffing and puffing when I tell them we don't have the item/size they are looking for. As if staring angrily at me for a long enough period of time will change the facts.

Selling here in our neighborhood is worse, since here everyone knows each other and is trying to outdo the other.

There is one neighbor who had been rummaging through the things for about 30 minutes. Not buying. Just poking. I remembered that a friend of mine had asked me to look for some things in her size. Not having anything to do, I started looking through what we had. I pulled out a shirt and carried it into the house. "Oh!" shouted the neighbor, "I want that shirt!" I told her I was sorry, it wasn't for sale--but pointed out a very similar one still out. "No," she moaned, shaking her head, "The other one is much prettier." A few minutes later, I found a skirt in my friend's size, and carried it into the house. "Wait! I want that skirt!" she yelled. We repeated the above scenario, with her commenting, "You are taking away everything I want."

Seriously, lady? Seriously? There are still like over 1,000 pieces of clothing out there and your day is ruined because 2 items were subtracted? Sigh.

Same neighbor is still rummaging when her niece's mother-in-law & sister-in-law come walking by (yeah, try to picture the connection.). The MIL mentions that she likes the folding tables we were using for the clothing. Were they for sale? Rey said maybe. She pointed out a few other things she liked and walked on by.

I was trying to telepathy to Rey that we did NOT want to sell these table in this neighborhood, because I could just feel that they'd be the root of a lot of problems. Before Rey received the message, the first neighbor pounced on him. "Don't sell those tables to anyone but me. Here, here," she said, jamming $25 in his hand, "Now they are set aside for me!" Rey innocently said ok and kept smiling. I was not smiling.

Then, this lady's nephew's wife came by. She is very sweet, about my age, with an almost-2-year-old daughter. She almost always buys household stuff from me, which makes me think she is just trying to get her house set up.

She looked through our towels and blankets and then asked if we had any tableware. Rey said that later we would, right before we left. She said ok.

No sooner had she left than you-know-who sidled up and hissed in my ear, "You let me buy all the tableware stuff you have. Plates, cups, silverware. You tell me first."

My smile was more of a grimace, I'm sure, as I wordlessly moved away from her. (And don't worry--her niece is getting all the good stuff. That's just how I roll.)

What a woman.

Ok, to tell the next part of this drama, I have to back up a bit. Remember the MIL and her daughter that first mentioned the tables?? Ok, well the MIL is a bent over elderly woman that always is out and about with her daughter Elvira, who is probably around 30 and unmarried.

They are a pretty "special pair" themselves. When we sold off our furniture, we put a sign out on our fence saying what items were for sale and the prices. Elvira and her mama were about the first ones to come running.

They wanted to see everything that was for sale and would moan and rebuke me for whatever item was not for sale. "Why did you sell your bed to someone else?? You should have saved it for me. At least sell me your quilt!" They literally took themselves into every room and poked through everything--seeming only to want items that were already sold. In the end, they asked me to sell them 2 of our larger bookshelves, our microwave, our garden hose, our full-length mirror, and our quilt. I showed them 2 smaller bookshelves, but they said nothing. They left about $10 as a down payment and left.

The next day, some neighbors come and bought the small bookshelves, saying they would come back for them.

That night, Elvira and her mom came back, rapping on our gate.

When the conversation starts with, "We are about to have a fight with you," you know it's going to be good. They then commenced complaining, whining and accusing that they had wanted those smaller bookshelves and they had found out that someone else had bought them. Although I knew this to be untrue, I could not convince them--and they literally whined about it the next 3 times they came to make payments. "Ohhhh, I am still wishing for those small bookshelves.... Ohhhh, señora, how could you have done that to us???,.... Are they really gone??" My tongue was nearly bitten in half.

So, these special people are the ones who had asked about the tables. The night that the other neighbor had made her deal with Rey, Elvira and her mom come streaking back. "Hoooowwww could your husband do this to us?? We specifically said, 'Sell those to us. Those are ours. We want them' and he sold them to someone else." Since I'd been there, I knew that was a lie, but I just pointed out that they already had a pretty huge debt with us, and business-wise, it wouldn't work out to put more on their account. They calmed down pretty quick.

There you have it. Don't you just want to start selling stuff right now??

Speaking of selling stuff, we are pretty bare in these parts. Don't have a table to eat on, a couch to sit on, dressers to put our clothes in or chairs to sit down on. Our curtains are gone and we are down to about 3 cups and 5 plates. Our clothes are in boxes, and we are sitting on the floor or on buckets. Our computer is propped up on two boxes, books are in boxes. So, I feel like we are in a sort of limbo right now. Rey says he feels a lot more tired at night, because there is no where comfortable to sit! haha.

Yesterday, after church, we ended up having about 20 unexpected guests for lunch from one of the farming communities Rey goes to. So, they come to this uptown house--which I'm sure looked nice... and bare! We ate off of the folding tables and sat on plastic stools we use for ministry. Afterwards, I was chatting with one of the ladies--and tried not to laugh as she explained to me: "I am noticing you don't really have much furniture. And it's funny, because we rancheros are really into furniture, and I guess you all don't really like it that much..." It just cracked me up that she made it a "city"-"country" observation.

The most interesting thing to me though has been the item I have missed the most (and I'll bet the neighbors do too!): Mirrrors! We have one mirror that is about 6" wide in the bathroom. We used to have one of those rectangular mirrors next to our dresser which was a big help for getting dressed. I didn't realize how many times a day I'd unconsciously glance at it (and realize I had applesauce down my shirt or dirt smudged on my face). Now, when I get dressed, I then run out into the front yard to check the windows to see if the outfit matches. Haha. Poor neighbors.

Wow. That was a long ramble.

Now, I need to go load up the van with all this stuff. Yay for selling!! :)

yesterday.

Yeah, so here goes another post wherein I don't talk too much about the decision. Maybe because it's all I think about, talk about and breathe these days so I really don't want to write about it. Maybe next time.

Yesterday. Being our day off, we got our spectacular-and-soon-to-be-sorely-missed babysitter over first thing in the morning (before the bebés were awake) and we went downtown to sell again. We set up shop, and.... nothin'.

Last time we sold downtown, it was nonstop action. This time, it was nonstop yawns.

And, it was booooiiiillliiiinnnnggggg hot. We happened to be set up on the sunny side of the street (which sounds a lot nicer in song than in reality, we've found). No shade.


I told you I'd give you the down-low on the sun sometime and here it comes. You see, I know mid-westerners tend to scoff at those who slather on sunscreen and don wide-brimmed hats. "Sissies", we whisper to each other. "Wimps," we snort.

I worked at an outside job for 7 summers and used to snort and whisper with the rest of 'em. Now, I put on a hat, super high blocking sunscreen and long sleeves if I'm going to be in the sun all day.

Think about it. The midwest is humid, low altitude and a bit farther from the sun than Zacatecas. I know it seems weird to say at 7,000 feet you are closer to the sun, but you are. And the air is thin and dry-- meaning there's none of that UV protection that humidity provides. And, with the heat being dry, you don't sweat... so heat fatigue and sickness are a very real deal.

So, Rey and I tried to hunker down in whatever scraps of shade we could find (I tried to duck into the shade his body was making, but it didn't work too good). The sides of our faces and necks felt like they were on fire, so we put shirts over our heads. It's a cute look. Try it!

The good thing was, in between gasping like a fish out of water, Rey and I did get some time to just sit and talk without interruptions. If you have kids, I don't need to elaborate on this! :)

Finally, I said, "It's our day off. Why throw it away if no one is buying? Let's close up earlier."

Rey wasn't too sure.

Then, a truck drove by announcing last night as the last night of the circus.

"Let's go to the circus," I said, rather giddily (can't say if it was "yay, circus" giddiness, or "my brain is literally fried" giddiness).

Rey, as always, played along with my whim and we packed up shop.

Rey took our babysitter home and then went to get tickets for the circus.

Here's the fun "we live in Mexico" twist: We wanted to get the cheap tickets (about $2.50). To get those, you had to buy them from the guy driving the truck. How do you find this truck?

Well, Rey drove around the downtown area for about an hour and couldn't find them.

So, it looked like there would be no circus.

Then, around 5:40, I heard it! The truck! Really close to our house! I had been hanging up laundry out back and came shrieking into the house. Rey was already shoving his feet into some shoes and grabbing his keys.

15 minutes later, he came back and triumphantly slapped 3 tickets into my hand. We were on. The event started in ten minutes--yikes! I slid the supper I'd been making into the fridge, threw some stuff in a diaper bag and we were off.




On the way, we talked about how bad it could be. The kids could totally hate it. It could be boiling inside that tent. The show could be really cheap. We could have to leave within the first 20 minutes because one of the kids is overwhelmed...

We've gotten excited about a lot of things and then come away dissapointed, so we were just trying to let ourselves down easy.

But! We got there... after the door man rolled his eyes at our "cheap" tickets and huffed and puffed at us for not upgrading them, we clambered up the rickety steps to the top section. When the show started, pretty much everyone was in the top/"cheap" section and about 10 people were scattered around in the "good" seats.

We loved our seats. We could see everything really well, but it wasn't so close that it was overwhelming. The temperature was comfortable. The kids were enthralled in the circus from the time it started to the time it stopped.

The show was great. They had different animal shows mixed with people doing some pretty amazing stunts. Like superman strength kind of stunts. Or juggling a huge thing with their feet while juggling flaming batons in their hands. Or flying around the stage hanging on to a hoop hanging from the ceiling. Or making 4 Siberian tigers do different tricks--including jumping through a ring o' fire... I could go on. But, it was basically 2 hours of fun, and we all enjoyed ourselves a lot.

I liked yesterday.

different eyes

As I've mentioned before, street vendors are a common sight at major intersections here. While waiting for the green light, you can get your windshields cleaned, buy toys for the kid's birthday, a flower for your girlfriend or some gum to cover the garlic on your breath from the salsa you just ate.

While it is an interesting cultural experience, it can also be annoying to have a line of people coming to your window, hand outstretched for money. It can be frustrating to have 2 boys hurling themselves across the front of the car to wash your windshield when you already told them you don't have any cash on you. It can awaken feelings of doubt when people stand at your window, doctor's note outstretched, talking a mile a minute: "Just a little money so I can buy medicine..."

Recently, I have come to know 2 such people personally. And it has really changed my perspective.

One is Orlando. He is originally from Acapulco. He is young, wears sandals, a baja hoodie and wears his hair in a pony tail. He is a wanderer and an artist. He creates beautiful jewelry with great skill and patience--winding a coil of wire into intricate earrings or weaving strings into a bracelet. He is newly married with a baby girl on the way. To make ends meet and save up some money for a house he wants to build, he also does some difficult baton throws at stoplights and wanders through town playing his guitar. He is friendly, easy to talk with.

I wonder what I would think of him if I didn't know him?

The other is Xitlali (pronounced: "Seet-lah-lee"). She is a thin girl, about 15 years old. She lived about a block from us, and I met her and her grandma when they came to buy clothes from us. In talking with her, I found that every day she goes to sell things at a busy intersection in town. Some days she sells a candy her grandma makes, some days she hauls a board featuring many kinds of air fresheners for cars to sell. "I don't come back 'till I've sold everything." She often comes to my house after she gets done, "to see what's new..." I think she also like checking out the gringa. She has 5 siblings and often one of her younger brothers goes with her to sit out at the stoplight all day. He appears to be around 5 years old.

Yesterday, I pulled up to "her" stoplight on the way back from picking up the groceries. Xitlali was perhaps the 3rd person to arrive to my car, and she smiled when she recognized me. I apologized that I didn't have any cash on me, but offered her some of the Cheetos I had. She gladly took some, as well as her little brother. We chatted about things until the light turned green and I pulled away.

I wondered how many times I had scowled at her before I knew her?

In truth, I need Jesus' eyes.

why....?

"Why do I ever think it will work?" I moaned to Rey as we pulled out of our friends' driveway.

You see, from our selling stuff--we have met a really nice couple with 2 young boys. Yesterday. They invited us over for supper tonight. At 7. PM. I kind of started trembling inside, because Aleni usually conks out at 7 (or before) and Noah around 8.

But, I didn't want to get the name of "whiny gringa" so I smiled (tremblingly, I'm sure) and mentioned that possibly we could bring Aleni's pack-and-play to lay her down in for a couple of hours. The new friend said she had a crib, so no worries!

We pulled up a little after 7, and the house was dark. Thankfully, the girl's dad was also parked out front, and he had keys to the house. So, he let us in the house and we plopped on the couch to wait for our friends. The good news is, the dad is a talker and he talked non-stop 'till our friends got there.

The bad news is, they didn't get there for about another 1 1/2 hrs.

I am sure the jaw in my muscle was bulging and the crease between my eyebrows was getting deeper with every minute that ticked by. Of course, the living room was small, with glass things set around at the kids' eye-level. Of course Aleni was wailing by the time they got there. Of course Noah's diaper was full and I was dizzy from walking the 2 of them around and around in circles to try to keep them halfway occupied. Of course the food had to start getting made after our friends got there.

Thankfully, once the friends got there, Noah had fun playing with their boys and Aleni was able to stay halfway manageable with all the distraction.

Ah! I forgot the really funny part. We had actually brought Aleni's sound machine, thinking that would help her feel at home when we laid her down to sleep. Guess where the crib was? In the middle of the living room! I had to laugh inside, thinking about how helpful it was that we'd brought that sound machine. Obviously, Aleni didn't spend more than 1 minute in the crib!

So, now we're back. It's after 10 and we are exhausted and ready to fall into bed.

And, yet again "Mexican time" has been drilled into my ever-hopeful head.

roots.

Things are bad here. But, I hear they're bad everywhere. It seems like this was foretold somewhere, isn't that true?

The violence here seems to be ever-worsening, ever-growing. It is all most people talk about all day long--albeit in hushed tones, not wanting to be overhead in case one of "them" is nearby. They talk about people being betrayed by life-long friends, about kidnappings and hold-ups. About corruption and senseless killings.

If evil prevails by implanting fear, evil is prevailing here. Many do not want to go out of their houses. We wonder how many of the stories are made up--just to create fear.

One thing that I have always hated here is the news reports. Newspapers here boldly splash huge pictures of dead bodies in the streets, blood and gore. I shudder to think of how young children are here when they first see real violent death at their local gas station newsstand. Yes, they put all those horrific images--but very rarely are there details as to the where, why, how, what is being done to bring justice. No, just sensationalism.

There are actually magazines published completely filled with nothing other than photographs so horrific that even the newspapers wouldn't print them. Rey remembers seeing them as a small boy.

It actually seems that many develop a taste, a hunger, for things dark and gory here. At the local movie theaters, the typical mix of movies is: 1 child movie, 1 famous/American movie, and then the other 5 all depict monsters, or witches, or children looking to be suffering from some kind of possession--blood and gore again.

A friend of mine posted this article, written by a Mexican in a newspaper column here. I loved his perspective, especially coming from a national. It was eye-opening for me. I almost didn't post it because I didn't know if it would be as interesting to others... But, here goes:

By: Carlos Mosivias

"...In a text published by the supplement El Angel... a crime reporter plants a disturbing idea. He writes that the consumption of newspaper images of death, blood and crime scenes are a kind of ritual by which Mexicans continue to show homage to the god Tecaztlipoca. 'It's like in the pages of these magazines we find a corrupt and sick altar to the violent power of a despotic government.'

If we believe historians, ... we would note that the Aztecs ate the flesh of their enemies and made human sacrifices in ceremonial rituals.

When societies that have practiced cannibalism evolve to a certain level of complexity and development they tend to severely condemn these practices in order to make them disappear, since at a certain point the practice puts at risk their own development. However, for some unknown reason we Mexicans never gotten rid of our rituals and they have symbolically remained until now. We see it in our traditional celebrations on November 2 ("The Day of the Dead"), in our fatalistic conception of the world and in other other aspects of our daily lives.

We tend to enjoy enjoy watching fights/boxing, we go to cock fights, we diligently take our turn to go see a dead body in the street, we line up to see horror movies with candy in our hands (to enjoy ourselves more) and, well, our inclination for this sensationalism seems to in a repressed way show our inheritance. It is important to note that the before-mentioned examples are ways of showing the aggression and violence, not the causes. However, our governmental regimes and decadence have turned us into a society familiar with and, in some ways, avid participants of the violence.The difference is while some actually are doing the violence, the rest of us are watching, listening and reading about it.

'The central point of [one of these violent magazines] is that it belongs to the same moral system as the crimes they write about. It forms a part of the same cultural structure."

..The truth is, even in the most stellar news programs, the violence is present. It is, without doubt, a sign of the times.

Another person dead in Juarez, another fallen in the street, students killed, babies killed... and--in the middle of it all--showing that we have one of the most ineffective police forces in the world. And why not? It also belongs to the same info structure that as those who are producing this stuff.

The tabloid/sensational writer is just doing his job. Reporting word by word, retelling the acts--their eight columns contain death: the photograph explodes into sight and the the vocabulary is exaggerated, sensationalistic, melodramatic as is characteristic of this genre... It is not the press's fault that in case after case so called public opinion only wants them to dig up details--not to look to promote justice.

Could I say it more clearly?

It made me think about something: Perhaps all this focus by the culture on gruesome violence is actually grooming violence in the next generation. What I mean is-- would not kids longing for greatness notice all the attention evil-doers get? The complete absorption in violence and ugliness? It would have to seem that becoming a part of the same violence would practically be a ticket to stardom!

It just made it so clear how easy it can be to take a stand against violence--starting from our own homes... our influence on our friends. Refusing to engage in the on-going dialogue of who did what. Refusing to be interested in the gore. Making a point of praising and lifting up those who do good.

It also made me see how deeply rooted darkness is in the country and how much it needs Jesus!

curiosity

It killed the cat, and it's killin' me! (In the figurative sense, of course.)

Being a foreigner in a country can get old. Then, imagine being a foreigner in a town where you can count the other "white people" on one hand. Yes, you become quite the head-turner. Quite the sensation.

I know some people say, "That's great! Use it to your advantage!"

But, sometimes, I just want to be invisible. I just want to wander around, window-shopping and lost in my own thoughts--without having to constantly try to side-step teethy señores who want to tell me my Spanish is great and where am I from?

I want to open my mouth without everyone in ear-shot freezing. I want to ask where I can find something without some snooty girl saying she can't understand my accent.

I want people to come visit me because they want to be friends, not because they want to see what kind of place the gringa has... and once they have found that out, they never come back.

I want not to be thought of as the representation of an entire nation. I often feel I am "bearing" the reproach of what someone perceives of Americans (example: American girls are generally thought of as being very "loose" morally... so, it can be hard to get other girls to open up since they think you are going to try to steal their man. It can be too easy for guys to approach you because they think you'll be open to them.).

I guess the thing is, I don't mind people being curious about me. It's just I mind the "impersonal curiosity". In other words, usually they aren't curious in that genuine "let's-be-friends" kind of way. More like curious in the "pay 5 cents to see the circus act" kind of way.

But, it's ok. I know I'm interesting. It's hard being a star. Hahah.

don't you?

When you are out and about, looking for a new shirt to wear, don't you always carry around a bottle of the good stuff? At 10 in the morning? Don't you?

she's a diva

To be fair, our van has had a hard life. She was a wonderful gift at a much needed time. However, she is annoyed with us right now because it seems we didn't get the "hello-Windstars-are-for-driving-on-paved-roads-only" memo. Or the, "treat-me-gently" memo.

She has taken us all the way from here to Nebraska, through a snowstorm in Missouri (above) and to Illinois... and then back here. She has driven us the 9 hours to the border and back. More than once. She has taken people to and brought people from different airports.

She has been transporting wayyyy more people than she was made to carry (hey, it's Mexico. Why take more vehicles when we can all sit on each other's laps?).

She has been jarred, jostled and jolted along "roads" featuring pot holes as big as she is and rocks the size of her tires.

So, around the end of October, Van said, "Enough already! If you won't stop the abuse, I'll make you stop!" The transmission went out.

Ooohhh. Good one, Vanny. Because, we didn't have anything to fix the transmission with-- so Van sat out in the street in front of our house, chuckling to herself beneath her ever-thickening blanket of dust.

In December, we found a super-cheap mechanic who promised success. When he was finished with his repairs, we found that the brakes stayed clamped on. Rey tinkered with that a bit, with no luck. And then, Vanny struck again and the transmission went out. Again.

In January, we received a gift to be able to repair the van. So, we hired 2 better mechanics... and they worked in the afternoons in our front yard. All of Van's guts were laid out in the lawn and the mechanics literally took out the engine and a bunch of other big parts as they fixed the old girl.

About a week later, she was ready to go. Maybe the 2nd day Rey had her out, the van wouldn't start. So, back to the mechanics she went.

And, then her brakes kept clamping on.

Then, her suspension had to be fixed. I think she may have a crush on one of the mechanics. Not too sure.

About a week ago, maybe the second time I was driving her, I started her up, and made a U-turn on my street to head out. I heard a "clunk"... and then the car stopped working. I rolled to a stop, and got out to investigate. From back of the van stretched a long line of oil on the street... ending at a piece that had fallen off of the van. It seems like it was a cap of some kind for one of the oil tanks. So, she was out of commission again for a few days while Rey found the parts to fix it. And, the first time Rey drove her--the same piece fell off again. So, Rey fixed her. Again.

Now, she is running again. But, to start her, you have to do this fun little "back-and-forth" game, where you try to start it in "park", and then you try to start it in "neutral" and you just keep going back and forth like that until she decides to run.

She also does these super dramatic coughs and convulsions whenever the air conditioner is turned on.

Sistah, if you keep it up... you may just have to find yourself a new family!

sell outs.

We aren't. Really. It was just a fun title.

Most of you know that we have not been able to raise anywhere near what we need to live here. It is really the grace of God that keeps us going. But, it also can create a pressing stress when it comes to any financial thing.

A couple of months ago, we were stuck. We had way more bills than we had the ability to pay. So we decided to sell some non-essentials. Things we don't really need today-- like that stove we had, when this house came with a stove. Or (*sniff*) all our baby clothes that had been outgrown. Or clothes we didn't use that often. Or that TV screen (who needs a 36" when you have an 8"?). Or that cozy robe (sweaters work just fine). Don't need this stroller when I have 2 strong arms. Thinning out some of Noah's toys worked, too. "We don't really need these frames, or those cups, or..."

Using this approach, we were able to put out a couple tables of stuff and hang some things on our fence and have a fine garage sale.

However, we soon ran out of non-essentials.

I then remembered something I had done to help us out financially when we lived in Rio Bravo: Selling for people. I asked around among our friends if anyone had stuff they'd like to sell. I'd offer to sell it for them and split it 50-50. Works out good because we always have "new" stuff to sell, and they are getting a little something for doing nothing.

We usually try to put out our little "thrift shop" at least once on the weekend, depending on Rey's schedule. We seem to sell best on Saturdays.

Days we sell are crazy days. "Hit the floor running and don't stop 'till it's over" kind of days. Days that our bed looks like this. All day.



It is always a juggling game. It takes about an hour of running to get everything out and ready to sell... stepping over and around little helpers that want to pull clothes off tables and tags off of clothes. Taking turns gobbling down breakfast, lunch, supper.





The other great thing about doing this selling is we get to meet our neighbors and somewhat form relationships with them. That is huge.

We put out our shop today. Oh, my. What were we thinking? As you see, we live on a dusty dirt road. Made even dustier by 5 months without any kind of rain. And today was sooo windy. I'm guessing it was gusting around 30 mph. Clothes were flying around. You couldn't see the end of the street. Craziness.

As we packed up stuff in the afternoon, I told Rey it looked like we'd been trying to do business on the beach. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g was coated it sandy dirt. Ni modo ("oh well"), we had to try!

Now, the dust has (literally and figuratively) settled. Everything is back to where it should be, windows and doors shut, house swept. I found myself finally making our bed about 7 pm. I know, I know. What's the point.... But, it really helps me feel like I can settle in and relax when everything is "as it should be" (for the most part!).

So, now... me and my baby are gonna settle in with a big bowl of veggie soup and a movie someone gave us. And we are going to relax!

dumbness... it can be scary.

Do you ever stop to think about how nice the world would be without money? Now don't roll your eyes or overthink it... What I mean is: How many of the horrible, life-taking things going on in the world today are because of money. Because money = power. And everyone wants that. Power.

I just get so annoyed when I think about the evil that drugs has done to the country I am living in. Stupid drugs. I mean, seriously? Killing innocent people, kidnapping innocent people, terrorizing innocent people-- for marijuana? I know-- it comes down to the money = power thing... but, grr!

I wonder how different our experience here would be without the whole "drug thing". From what we hear, this area had no drug issue until about 3 years ago when the cartels moved in. They now hold the area in a grip of utter panic. Fear for life. Fear for living. They work somewhat like the mafia: Extorting businesses under threat of death or destruction of property. They have been known to raze schools. They have kidnapped family members right from their front doorstep. They set up blockades on the roads and pull people over... stealing cars or worse. They show up at random places, always armed to the hilt, and demanding whatever they want.

What would it be like without this darkness? Obviously now people are deciding the safest thing is to stay huddled up in their houses and stick with the people they know. Mexicans have always been known for being warm, open and hospitable. We haven't found that in this area, and we think we know why.

I don't usually get scared about it unless I am out driving with the kids alone. There are certain highways in town that it seems like soldier-drug people chases take place with more frequency... and when I am on those roads, my pulse gets faster. I start over-analyzing every fancy looking SUV, every car without plates. I give them extra distance, try to check if they might be following.

Here, as soon as the sun goes down, the area becomes somewhat desolate. There aren't too many people on the streets, walking or in cars. It is generally known that the safest time to be out is in the morning and afternoon. After that, people stick close to home. I don't like to drive after dark. The feeling that everyone is hiding pushes my imagination into overdrive.

Rey just got home from the Huichol Indian village. He says that they were pulled over by one of the drug road blockades. They were forced to get out of their vehicles and questioned as to their activities. The vehicles the team uses have magnets with the ministry name on them.... and Rey feels like if it weren't for them they may have been fired upon since they failed to stop right away.

So, there. That's our situation. It's ugly. It's wrong. And it's so dumb.

my limits.

Some sweet friends had a get together/meal for a bunch of us tonight.

Rey ate first and then wrangled Aleni while I scooped some food onto my plate to gobble it down.

Rey asked if I had gotten anything out of that dish. That dish was a covered dish which held some unknown black, gnarly, mushy looking substance which I passed on as I went for the identifiable rice and beans.

Him (brightly): You should try some!
Me: What is it?
Him (looking around for help): I can't remember the name of it...?? (getting no help, he shrugs:) Well, anyways. It's cooked blood and onions!" (smiling encouragingly)

I told him since he'd described it so beautifully.... I'd pass.

not so bad

Disinfecting fruits and veggies ain't so bad when it looks like this:

clouds.

Today, a friend of mine from here in Fresnillo wrote on Facebook: "Clouds... beautiful clouds... what a wonderful day!"

Now, this may sound odd to those of you still in the gray clutches of winter... but, we haven't had precipitation of any kind since early September. That means we've had about 5 whole months of nothin' but sunshine. Sure, it's cold now... but we still have the cheery sun greeting us every single day.

This really is mind-blowing to the Central Illinois native that I am. I mean--no rain, no snow, no nothing?? Seriously? As you can imagine... things are veeerrrryyy dry around here. (Except for our front yard which Rey still has looking shockingly green thanks to his nightly watering).

Yesterday, clouds rolled in late afternoon. Yes. After 5 months of pure blue with a white puff here or there... the clouds made an appearance. They really do feel like a presence. A rolling expanse of fluffy gray blanketing the sky. The air feels still and dampish. Sounds seem muffled.

Thankfully, this calming sensation brought by our gray sky-cover seems to have affected the babies. They have been exceptionally mellow... and were both ready for naps long before nap time rolled around.

I am hoping the rainy season holds off just 2 weeks longer. You see, our roof leaks. And so do our windows. The landlady is having things repaired at the beginning of February.

Then... I say... Let it pour!

well, yes. you could say that...

As I mentioned before, I am now working 2 mornings a week at a "Make-your-own" jewelry store name Caliza (which I am loving, by the way). Being an American working in México almost always provides for curious clients. I told my friend (the owner) she should post a sign outside that says, "Gringa freak working here" if she wants to increase sales. ;)

Many Mexicans resist calling the US "America", because--as they have pointed out to me--the are just as much "America" as the US... being on the North American continent and all. So, the US is often referred to as "el otro lado (the other side)". Think border.
A conversation between me and a teenage boy yesterday:

Him: "So, are you from the other side?"
Me: "Sí."
Him (looking very wise and earnest): "Oh, ok. I'll bet you learned to speak English really well over there."
Me (mouth opening. closing.): "Sí."

agua?

A few days ago, our neighborhood was without water since there was a break somewhere in the pipes. Water was turned off on Tuesday morning and turned back on Wednesday around noon. Late afternoon, our water tank was about half full, but that didn't create enough pressure for the water to actually come into the house. That didn't happen until Thursday morning.

I just want to insert here that I still haven't figured out how to do the unshowered look "cutely". You know those people that you can go camping with and after 5 days in the wilderness, they still look cute? That's not me.



Back to the agua situation. So, my darling and oh-so-ingenious husband put a spigot on our water tank (low to the ground so the water didn't need to be pressurized), and at last we had water! If you can imagine what 1 1/2 days of dishes in the sink looked like... well, I forgot to take a picture, so you'll just have to imagine. But, yeah. We were running out of things to eat off of and drink out of.

Dish washing took a little longer and looked like this:


But it was actually kinda fun. It made me think of a simpler time, and how if people who lived all the time without running water saw my way of washing and rinsing... they would probably snicker into their shirtsleeves. I'm sure it was a very inefficient method--but, the dishes got washed. Even if I had to re-wash a bunch since the bucket Rey had filled with water also had been used to put gas into when he was fixing the car the other day. Ooops. So that's what that weird smell was....


We also were able to have one of these guys full of water in the bathroom:

That meant we could flush. Manually. I never knew about that kind of flushing until I came here. Of course, I've dumped mop water and stuff down the toilet and noted that it flushed... But, the first time I came to Mexico as a wee and impressionable lass of 18, I learned of this often used technique. We were at a restaurant chowing down on tacos, when I used up 50% of my Spanish vocab at the time and asked: "Dónde está el baño?" I was taken to the tiniest of rooms at the back of the restaurant, barely enough room to shut the door behind you, and stood in line behind a couple other ladies. When it was my turn, I self-consciously shut the paper-thin door, noting there were about 3 other ladies waiting their turn.

When it time to flush, I realized I had a problem. This toilet had no tank on the bank, hence--no "flusher". I looked around the bathroom several times to see if there was something to remedy the situation, but all there was nothing (I'd even had to bring my own paper). I finally poked my beet red face out the door and pointed at the toilet... How did one say "flush" in Spanish?? I made some kind of hand motions and said "How?" The woman in charge motioned to a huge tank of water just outside the bathroom door. On top was floating a maybe 2-gallon bucket.

I got that I was supposed to fill the bucket up with water and that was supposed to be a miraculous solution. Trying to put on the "I-know-what-I'm-doing-here" face and noting that the wait line was even longer, I went back in with my little bucket. I tossed the water in the toilet (first asking: "Should I throw it in the front or the back?"...so I did half and half). Let me tell ya. Nothing happened. I took a deep breath, put the bucket back in the tank and high-tailed it back to our table. I wanted to say "Sorry" to the people behind me. But, I was already mortified as it was.

Good news: I can now manually flush along with the natives. Haha.

So, that was a free story from the life of Liz.

Back to the actual topic: No water at the Sánchez home.

Bath time went down like this:



Noah loved it. Aleni preferred to enjoy from afar:


So, that's what we do when there's no water around here.

traditions

I am constantly on the look out for "parent techniques" that we can put into place in our family. Or, perhaps I am on the lookout for children that I would like for my children to be like. When I do spot things I like, I then observe what the parents did to encourage that behavior.

For example, a good friend of ours is a mom to 6 children--ranging in ages from around 4 to 15. We were so impressed when we visited their church, because during the prayer ministry time--all of those children went to the front to minister in prayer to whoever came forward with a need. It was so inspiring to see their hearts of genuine love and ministry towards their friends.

Of course, that was obviously encouraged and modeled by momma. Lesson taken to heart.

Some other friends of ours are missionaries in an orphanage on the west coast of Mexico. Their kids are all around 16 and older. What I love about their kids is each of them is completely themselves and encouraged to develop whatever dreams or personalities lies within them. Mom and Dad are pretty traditional, but I noticed the children to be each unique.... and happy. Perhaps they weren't just like mom and dad, perhaps their hair wasn't brushed and their clothing is scruffy--but let me tell you: Those kids love people. They are genuine, stable and easy to be around. They respect and they are happy to interact.

Lesson taken to heart.

Another family, life-long friends of mine, model parenting that is very formative in the early years, and then gives freedom for making choices during adolescence. So often, I would see one of my teenage friends sitting on the couch with mom or dad and hashing out a pending decision with them. The parents' input was usually very minimal, with questions like, "Well, do you think the Bible has anything to say about that?" "What would be pros and cons?" "What affect/consequences might come from choosing to do or not do this?" My friends would sometimes groan--saying that often they just wished mom or dad would say, "Do this"... but, even while saying this, they know why their parents are only guiding decision-making and not dictating it: So they can experience the results of their own choices.

I love that lesson.

I have also been realizing how family traditions are really the soil from which fond family memories spring. Even though when our kids are little we may be feeling like we are just barely keeping hold of our sanity... we must realize that little daily things often are what will later grow into the strong tree of family unity and solidarity.

I remember that my mom would read to us kids almost every lunch time. We reverenced, loved and protected that time. We would do whatever we could to cajole her into reading to us as we ate, and then promise angelic behavior if she'd just read one more chapter. I have no doubt that this decision of hers is pretty much responsible for the avid readers that most of us are.

So, Rey and I wonder: What traditions do we want to establish in our family? Obviously, Aleni and Noah are still pretty young to really "get into" the idea of traditions, but we want to start now, so that it will be something we've "always done".

Really, the idea of "What traditions" for us is better answered by first answering "What kind of people do I want our children to become?"

I want my kids to love God and to really know His love for them. I want them to have a vibrant relationship with Him.

I want my kids to really know how to love people.

I want my kids to be responsible, hard-working and honest.

I want my kids to feel good about who they are and to have the freedom to try out their wings... To step into some of their dreams. To make mistakes, trip and fall, knowing that they won't be judged or mocked.

I want to care more about what is going on on the inside of each of my kids, more than what I see on the outside.

That means we have to model these things. Have these things springing up from our own hearts.

One tradition Rey and I have settled on is one we'd like to do at the end of each year. While many kids are throwing tantrums about not getting the right Barbie or motorized Jeep... we would like for our kids to dig deep and look around at people that might not be getting anything.

We would like them, maybe starting in November, to be on the look-out for someone they can "sponsor". Be it a child, adult or family. Be it taking them a card they made, cookies they helped decorate or a toy... We would like them to decide "who" and "what"--and help to make it happen.

We are really excited to see how this plays out in the years to come!


This year, of course, Rey and I "picked". Rey found a needy family in our neighborhood, and we took them over a meal and some bags of candy one night.

The family lived in a low, rectangular building made of rough, gray cement. The building had maybe 8 single rooms that people rent (kind of like an old motel idea). The doors are metal and the windows are holes cut out of the wall. The woman we "sponsored" had taped a plastic bag across her window.

We could see a candle flickering through it. Hmm. No electricity. Let me tell you, it has been getting cold at nights here-- maybe 25-30 degrees cold. Immediately, I felt bad for the children to be sleeping in the cold that way.

The door opened, and the woman stepped out, a small single room almost completely filled by a bed and a table behind her. Her 3 children, aged maybe 7 through 11 came out also... dressed for sleeping but with the "just scrubbed" look.

As Rey told the woman why were were there, her eyes filled with tears as she thanked us and told us that she is a single mom with no job. Yes, the food would help a lot.

Aleni, Noah, Rey and I stood there in a semi-circle under the stars and laid hands on the family, praying God's blessing and light over them.

We hope to continue developing this relationship--but, one thing I know. This is a good tradition.

Seen on a dirt road in México...

Sorry about the bad quality of the picture. But, I took it through the side van windows as we passed this guy.

Yes. He is going somewhere. With 2 sheep strapped to the back of his motorcycle.

Did I mention they were LIVE sheep??