to my dear, beloved & adored husband

Darling... I know that when we leave here, we'll be leaving a part of your heart.

I know that you have poured sweat, blood & tears into this place. I know that you have taken other's problems as your own. I know you have been Jesus to the people you meet.


Cariño, I know that you struggle with the thought of leaving all that you have invested behind. I know that you ask God each day that these people you hold close to your heart will not be forgotten.



Baby, I know that in many communities--you feel like you are just now getting through. You are just starting to see tender fruit. You are just beginning to advance. The idea of leaving must be overwhelming.



Precioso, I know you must wonder if it was wrong of us to come. If we shouldn't have started a work... if we can't stay around to see it blossom.

But, dear husband... Please think of if we had not come.

Think of the hearts that would still be in darkness. The lives still in bitter bondage. The sick still looking for remedy.



Think of the baby believers whose new birth you personally had a part in bringing about.

Think of the godly example you have left in every village you have visited.


My love, I think it was worth the cost. And I know that God can make what will be lacking when you leave and turn it into an abundant harvest.

Yours forever,
me.

finally... a bit

Perhaps 3 months ago, I was singing along to this song as I was washing the dishes (although, it was the Spanish verison--which I happen to prefer). It's a song I really like, so I was happy that it came on.

Mid-song, I stopped myself and asked what it would look like for me to surrender. What were the dreams and hopes I was holding higher than God? I guess--being a missionary--I was feeling pretty surrendered. "I've given You my life. I've given up family and friends. I've given up comfort and ease. I've got this song in the bag!"

But, then I examined the things I was holding dear. This life. This dream of living as a missionary in a foreign country that I've had ever since I was a little girl. This house that we have poured hours of sweat and muscle into to make it comfortable for our babies. These roots that we are just beginning to sink into this community. These few but dear friendships that are just deepening to a place of stability and confidence.

At that, my heart stopped. I remembered feeling like it froze in my chest, and I walked around our yard thinking about these things I was holding dear. I gazed out at the view of the mountains that I cherish. I looked at the yard we have worked long and hard to get to this place. I thought about the long-term plans we have in the communities we are working in. I thought about our supporters and our partners in ministry, the Glicks.

Tears stood in my eyes and my throat was swollen shut. Could I surrender even this? Would I? Is this dream I am living the dream God is dreaming for me?



When Noah was born, he kept his fists clenched tightly shut. It seems the outside world was too much coming in all at once, and keeping his hands curled up gave him a sense of control. You can't imagine the screams that would come whenever I wanted to open his hands to wash them or trim his fingernails.

Blisters formed on the palms of his hands; a combination of his nails cutting into his hands and whatever bits of things he had grabbed causing infection.

I thought about this in relation to our dreams.

How often do I hold on so tightly to my dream for me? My fists are balled up, and I scream at any sign that someone is going to try to open them. Dreams held too tightly tend to fester.

I thought about Abraham and Isaac. How tightly Abraham held his dream Isaac to his chest, until God called for him to open his fists and let God do what He wished with him.

These thoughts sat in my heart until about a month ago-- me thinking perhaps it was just something I needed to settle. God wouldn't want me to leave Mexico! This message is probably for someone else. Then, it just felt like God dropped into our hearts: Now is the time. You've been struggling long enough. At least consider that this struggling could be Me gently pointing you in a different direction.

Every fiber of my being cried out against this idea. I don't know if I can describe how bone-piercing the doubts and questions that arose in my mind were. I don't know if it can be understood how un-doable the idea seemed. There were big questions I had to ask God. There were big questions I had to ask me.

In the end, Rey and I came to a place of peace that this decision is for our good. It is for a reason. It is not us "giving up". It is not us "failing in faith". It is just another bend in the road. Another chapter of the book God is writing.

We are certain that the time is "now" that we are supposed to be "there". We just don't now for how long or for what.

But, our hands are open. And, we know we are being led by the One who gives every good and perfect gift.

dream reformation.

what is it like when a dream dies?
when the brightening of hope is crushed by
the darkness of failure?

it sounds like the crumpling of paper
ripped from its book, balled, thrown.
it rustles as it settles in with the other rubbish.

it is like a glass that falls to the ground
pieces scattering, irregular and cutting
unrecognizable.

it is tears streaming down cheeks,
fists balled in despair,
head bowed in acceptance.

it is the the hand of God, His voice
saying: "Though you fall,
you will not be utterly cast down."

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!

the most annoying part.

I know, I know. After reading that title, you have leaned closer to the screen and started nibbling on a fingernail. That is how much you are dying to know just what I find to be "the most annoying" thing.

The problem is, as soon as I write anything as drastic as "most", then I start double-guessing myself and changing what I was going to say before... I will most likely think of more annoying things as I write or in the middle of the night. Such is the bliss of my personality... haha.

So, as I was saying.

To me, possibly the most annoying part of Rey's "job" for me is the severed communication. We work as church planters, and the closest community Rey goes to is a little less than an hour away. The farthest is 4.5 hours away. And, his cell phone service is pretty much nonexistent as soon as he gets outside of our city. Which means, I usually hear nothing from him until he is about 5 minutes away. And that I can't get a hold of him until then.

It just makes for a long day. And the idea that I would not be able to get a hold of him at all if there were an emergency is even more daunting. So far, thankfully, there have been no emergencies that could not be figured out by me. I have been able to think of someone who might be able to give me a ride or whatever I need. Usually, the desire to communicate arises more from either curiosity, boredom, or the desire to plan.

Often, I just am thinking about Rey and want to see what he's up to. Is everything going well? Tell him I miss his darlin' face, etc, etc. ;)

Other times, I'm wondering if I should make supper? Will he have eaten by the time he gets back?? And--by the way--what time are you getting back? It seems to never fail that the nights I don't have supper ready... Rey arrives road-weary and famished. The nights I make a 3-course meal, he is so stuffed that even looking at food is nauseating.

Sigh. See why it could get annoying?

Today, there's no emergency and I still have leftovers from the good supper I made last night--so my desire to communicate isn't really a need. They are at one of the "far-away villages" today. Have been since 8 this morning. They must still be far away, because when I tried to call, my call was sent to voice mail.

Nah. I just wanted to call to tell him about something Noah said. And that some friends stopped by and chatted for a while. And that we've had a pretty good day, but that we miss him. And, that I just pulled cookies out of the oven, since I know he usually likes that after a long day out. Things like that.

But, that's where we are and what we do. I am learning flexibility and patience. I am un-learning to plan my weeks out months in advance... since I usually learn what Rey is doing on a day-to-day basis (for example: I have no idea if they are going out tomorrow or to where).
Yep. It's the most annoying part.

try Me in this

Bring all the tithes into the storehouse,
That there may be food in My house,
And try Me now in this,”
Says the LORD of hosts,

If I will not open for you the windows of heaven
And pour out for you such blessing
That there will not be room enough to receive it.
Malachi 3:10

I know talking about money is usually taboo... but, I think that those of you that read my stuff are close enough friends that you'll be "okay" with it.

We are facing a "tight" time financially. It seems that all the bills came at the same time: my visa, the rent and an outrageous electricity bill. We were looking at the month of December and literally wondering how we were going to be able to make it.

We get our support money in once a month. We saw what came in, and saw that it wouldn't really even cover what we owed, let alone have for food and gas.

Then came the issue of the tithe.

Saturday night, we discussed writing an note of "how much we owed God" and give the December's tithe in January. Sunday morning, we decided we should follow the principle of God first, in everything.

And Jesus said to them, “Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
Matthew 22:21

To be able to get groceries for the week, we decided to round up whatever "non-essentials" (even if some of them made me sentimental) we could find and do a garage sale in front of our house. (I've also found that doing a garage sale is one of the best way to "break the ice" with the neighbors = added bonus!)

Do you know what? When we laid our heads down on the pillow, we realized we were blessed. God had caused the sale to go well. He had given us back all of what we had given Him in the morning.

And added one peso more.

Lord-- We have tried You, and we have seen.

charity.

Being where we are and doing what we do means we get to see a lot of "acts of charity". Either as the recipients or the conduits.

In this use of the word-- "charity" often means giving to "less fortunates". People that may not have as much as you have. Often, this "charity" comes in the form of used items.

Some of my friends and I often joke about "missionary piety". Living like church mice. "Oh, yes... I do suck on corn cobs for protein. That's all we have here on the mission field. We use grass to brush our teeth..." You get the idea.

But, sometimes I think people do prefer to think of missionaries--or the poor--as having no dignity because of often being in need. Maybe that doesn't make sense. Here are some examples:

My aunt said that "back in the day", people stateside would send used tea bags to the missionaries abroad. We just talked about how... mmm... how do you say... condescending that seemed. "If you are good enough to drink from new tea bags, why aren't the missionaries?"

We are blessed to be surrounded by people who give of their best, even when it hurts, so that we can do what we do. However, we do see "things".

Like a team who came to do an eye clinic. Free vision checks and glasses! Of course people were excited. Until they found that they were these homemade glasses. Plastic lenses held in by wire twisted together with pliers. Of course the team that brought these did it with the best of hearts. Of course they got blisters as they twisted together those pairs of spectacles... But, seriously. They were like these deformed monstrosities, precariously tilting on the noses of the "blessed poor" that received them. How hard would it have been to use the same energy it took to get all those supplies, lug them to Mexico and make the glasses-- and raise funds to pick up a pile of reading glasses from the Dollar Store?? Honestly, I was embarrassed to be translating, and I freely told the recipients that if they didn't like them, not to feel like they had to take them. One 15-year-old girl came in. She was very cutely dressed and nervous as she took the exam. Then, they whipped out these "coat hangers turned into eye helpers", and I could see her embarrassment.

Recently, a church here in the area gave us maybe 20 garbage bags full of clothes to take out to one of our needy communities. I was helping Rey load some of the bags into the van last night to take out to the community they are at today.

An article of clothing fell out of the bag of clothing. It took me a while to figure out what it was. It was red polyester. But, what...?? Turns out it was a sleeve. Cut off of a blazer. That's what I'm talking about. Why? Why put that into a "charity" bag? It's garbage. Put it there.

I did my best grandmotherly voice and limped over to Rey, the sleeve laying across my outstretched hands: "Here, you poor soul. This is the best I have. Be blessed and Cristo te ama [Jesus loves you]." Cuz that's supposed to be the point of our giving, right? To reflect the love of Jesus?

So, I guess... I am just wanting "acts of charity" to really be "acts of agape love = "profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person." (from dictionary.com). Don't give someone garbage and pat yourself on the back. If it's not good enough for you, it's not good enough for "the poor". The poor are humans with pride and dignity. They too want to look good, feel good, enjoy good things.

Obedience vs Results

Being in the ministry, it is always so encouraging to be able to see when your efforts bring about positive change in the people you are working with. However, the reality of it is that it is more often day after day without notable improvement in many cases. Rey is the one who is "out on the streets" on the daily basis, so he is the one that feels this more regularly. The thing that always impresses me is I've never heard him dragging his feet to go out or complaining about people's less the friendly reception.

The other day, Rey asked me if I could get a small bag of groceries together for a family they had met in the community they were going to that day. The woman's husband committed suicide about 3 wks ago, and left her to tend to their 5 children as best she could. As I was getting the bag together, I asked him whatever happend to "the old man". The old man was a man in his late 70's they had met in another community that seemed to be left to fend for himself out on the edge of town. For several weeks, the team had been taking some groceries and prayers out to him--even though the man was practically deaf and it couldn't be too readily seen how much he was taken in. Rey said, "Oh, we haven't been able to find him these last couple visits." This got me thinking about how often we extend our hand to people and then it seems that we never know if what we did had some kind of impact. I found myself wondering if the bag I was preparing for the family would have any kind of visible results. If it would touch them as we hoped it would.

That is when the idea of "obedience vs results" came into my mind. You see, I am more often the one to analyze: "Was that a waste of time? The person didn't seem affected..." Or, I become offended and less eager to reach out to a needy person the next time around.

"To obey is better than sacrifice." (1 Samuel 15)

"But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices
God is well-pleased." (Hebrews 13)

We all know God's multiple promises of blessing to those who "extend their hand to the poor and needy". What I need to remember, is God doesn't ever speak of "results"! And, that my desire for results as practically always linked to my desire for praise (aka: my pride)--not a true desire for that person to find his hope and life in Jesus.

Can I share some acts of obedience Rey has demonstrated that have born "no results"--but I am sure have stored him away treasure in heaven, while speaking to me?

• He found an old, crippled woman in the streets and helped her get back to her house. She was very obviously supersticious and closed to the Gospel, but upon arriving at her house, Rey felt that God told him to wash her feet. He asked if he could, and she gave him permission to. He did so, prayed over her--and hasn't seen her since.
• Last week, we were enjoying the evening at a downtown plaza, when a man with no legs appeared. He was sitting on a crude, home-made cart (basically a piece of plywood over 4 wheels) that he pushed along with his hands. We were eating guayabas, so Rey took about four of them over to him. The man got very annoyed and refused to take them.
• Almost every stoplight here in town has people (from scruffy kids to adults) asking for money. They have gotta be happy when they see Rey coming, because he always finds some kind of change in his pocket to give them--usually along with a Gospel tract.

And so it goes. Rey is an example of constantly finding love for the unlovely, and the humility to extend himself in ministry--even after rebuttal. I love my man!!