Robbed…again

This post will be short and sw…uh, sour.

Saturday night we were robbed, again.  We were headed to the Bible Institute to teach and work, and had to make a stop on the way.  When we came out to our parked car, the first thing we noticed was our computer bags missing. 

They took everything they could, except the cinnamon rolls I baked that morning and had stuck under the passenger seat, out of the sun. My husband’s wallet, both our cell phones, the satellite radio receiver, my daytimer, and both our laptop bags – gone.  The drivers side door lock was ripped open and off.  There remains a gaping hole revealing the ‘guts’ of the door.

What we’re left with is the task to recollect all the work lost on those computers, figure out what to do these next days without our ‘tools’ for work, and buy new cell phones.  We’ve a pending trip planned from Oaxaca to Missouri and are praying for wisdom and provision as we make travel plans.

In the midst of it all, we have to agree with our Mexican friends:  at least we were not present, and therefore not harmed.  The collective consensus is, we’d be badly injured, if even alive, had the robbery occurred in our presence.

From Dedication to Graduation

Our second son graduated from high school last week and flew back to the states yesterday.  His room, empty.  Our hearts partially so.  Being on the mission field, we realize he most likely won’t be coming back to spend any school breaks with us, not even during the summer.

Several have asked me, “How are you doing, mom?”

“Okay”, I reply.

 

And that is the truth.  I do miss him and suspect that feeling will only grow in the coming months.  But deep down, tumbling inside together with grief, pride, hope, and loneliness for him, is some sort of calm – an assurance or contentment or something I can’t quite put my finger on.

 

And though I don’t know what, I do know why:  because this is what we raised him for.

I was reminded of that in church last Sunday when a young couple dedicated their baby to the Lord.  I flashed back eighteen years and saw Mike and I standing with the guest preacher in front of our congregation doing the same. We promised to raise him in the fear of the Lord and to introduce him to the Savior. We promised to train him up in the way he should go. 

He’s gone now.  He took the diploma with a handshake, moved the tassel from right to left, graduated with a smile, packed his things, and flew away.

These eighteen years were too quick.

Did we do well? I hope so, as there is no erasing, re-writing, or editing to be done as parents. We’ve certainly had our share of shortcomings, but we raised him the best we knew how and now it’s up to him to walk his own path with God…

…and with our never ending love and prayers.

 

Love you, Joseph!

Where’s my duster?

I sit down at my computer, enter my blog and find dust on its links and cobwebs in its corners.  I’m looking around for my duster, but then wonder, is it my blog that needs dusting or my brain?  Or, perhaps, my daytimer?

But why ask questions? Just take a deep breath, and blog, girl, blog!

Ah, it feels good for my fingers to tap dance around the keyboard as my heart and mind give the rhythm.  They want to express so much!  Such as…..

• Last nights graduation of my second son.
• The trip I took recently with other missionaries and pastors to study  indigenous tribes of Mexico.
• The Mexican stand-off we unwittingly became involved in while driving
• The teachers strikes that cripple this city
• The yoked oxen that saunter by our gate and the herd of goats that came to ‘mow’ our lawn
• Our 24 hour whirlwind trip to Mexico City and back for the completion of our resident visas
• The swine flu
• Saying goodbye to our son as he too leaves our nest
• The $350 dollar charge a local business covertly charged to our credit account

But those will need to wait.  For today, it’s been good to simply visit and allow fresh air in to the site.

And waddya know?  I didn’t even need the duster.

Handlebars Parody

Another contribution from one of my kids.

This one from our son in college.  He won a video contest with it, which is a parody on what I’m told is a popular song/rap.  If you like it, go to YouTube and help boost his views and rating.

It’s informative for us to see how our college dollars are, um, being spent.

Tejate Festival

(This post was written by my daughter, who turns 9 this weekend, and published on her missionary kid blog.

I’m adding it to my blog not only in honor of her birthday, but because I’ve been without quality Internet and haven’t been able to blog for awhile!

So enjoy!)

Hi.  This is the only Tejate Festival in the world.  It is in our village, called San Andres Huayapam. Tejate is pronounced (tay-ha-tay).  Tejate is a drink that has all kinds of stuffed mixed in. It has ground corn, cocoa, the flower from the cocoa tree, and the seed from the mamey fruit ground into in.  Mamey’s look kinda of like potatoes.  You can see some pictures here of the cocoa flower and the mamey fruit. (Mamey is pronounced mah-may).

The ladies stick their hands into it to mix it.  They add water and they keep beating it with their fist. That’s how they get the white foamy stuff on top.

They tell us the Zapotec Indians used to make it like a thousand years ago and the ladies in our village still make it the same way.

So how do you think it tastes?  I didn’t like it when I tried it last year.  (that’s me in the picture from then). Now when I drink it somehow it doesn’t seem so bad anymore.  I guess I’m getting used to it!

Anyway thousands of thousands of people come every year.  I think about four thousand or more people were there this year.  Isn’t that amazing! I can’t believe it.  We went to the festival and drank tejate but also you can buy ice cream, some real mexican food, mexican drinks, and more stuff at the festival.

What do you think is the best title for this story?

1. The Tejate Festival

2. Thousands of People

3.The Only Tejate Fiesta in the World

4. What you can get in Mexico

Please, after you pick one, leave a comment.  Thanks! Bye!

A Present Crucifixion

A sinless man, chosen to carry the crude wooden cross, half naked and bleeding from the thorns pushed into his skull, is still kilometers away from being crucified. “Agua!”, he cries out as his body trembles under the weight he carries down the dusty road. The sun bears down on him with unrelenting heat, for it is the hottest time of the year, the dry season, yet no one offers him a drop of the water he begs for- until he is hanging on the cross.

His mother falls to her knees weeping. A bittersweet moment of pride and anguish. Her son was chosen; his desire since childhood fulfilled. She will be known as this years mother of Christ.

The account is televised live. The days following claim him more than a hero; in fact, he is believed to have become Jesus Christ. That is the only balm he cares for as the holes in his feet and hands are tended to in the local hospital. The medical attention lasts several days, then he is sent home to recuperate.

“What faith”, they say of him. Already young men wait in anticipation to see who will be chosen the following year.

This is the Mexico we live in.

Every year a man is crucified on Good Friday in Tlalixtac, a pueblo within a ten minute drive from our home. In fact, the hill where the crucifixion takes place can be seen from our yard.

We were invited to go, but I don’t think I’d be able to handle it. If we did go, it would be to pray…and weep for the lostness and ignorance of a people who want so much to love God but have been detoured on the way by false teachings.

How can they not know this is unnecessary? How can they be so deceived? Their minds are fully convinced this is a holy act that highly pleases God.

“How can the man chosen be without sin?”I asked Natividad, the lady who excitedly recounted the annual event to me.

“Because he’s a boy; he is still a virgin. They have medical proof of that”. Except it’s not a boy as you and I would think- it is a teenager, or young man, since obviously he has to be physically developed enough to carry the cross those several kilometers from the center of town to the foothills of the Sierra Sur. (Her answer also lends insight into this culture’s belief of how exactly boys become men!)

“Nati”, I said, “The Bible says that all have sinned, in fact we are all born into sin.”

“Todos, except for this man is without sin. That is why he’s chosen”, she replied with a very confident nod of her head.

“But Nati”, I continued to another point, “when Jesus died on the cross, he said ‘It is finished’. That meant no one ever had to go through that again; he completed the payment for sin.”

“Si“, she concurred, “and this man proves his faith in Christ by enduring this. It is wonderful! He becomes Christ for all to see. Everyone can live in faith on that day because of this.”

No matter how I tried, she was convinced of only what she has been raised with. The most curious thing was that she would agree with me as I shared Biblical truths, but then would tag on to them traditional customs born of false teaching, which ended up nullifying the very truths being shared!

I can’t describe the heaviness I feel inside me as a sincere people miss it completely! How can we convince them of the truth? We must intercede for them- that God would reveal the simplicity and purity of the Gospel to them; that their blinded hearts would know the truth and be set free.

And we must continue preaching the Good News, then make disciples for others to go and do the same.

Mmm, fresh smogged meat (Friday photo from the field)

 

I was on my way from one side of town to the other, when this motorcycle snuck in front of me. With a glimpse and a gasp, I reached for the camera and took this shot while driving.  (And if you’ve ever battled traffic in Mexico, you’d either call me brave, crazy, or a good driver!)

In case you can’t make it out, that is a dirty plastic tub filled with raw meat strapped to the bike behind two men- one the butcher with the rubber boots, and the other the driver. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so squeamish, but I was grossed out and thought of following them to find out where he was selling the meat- only to make sure I never shop there. The butchered carcass was not covered, nor refrigerated on that hot day, and if you’ll note the butcher’s hair is uncovered.  Yeah, you get the picture.

The roasted grasshoppers suddenly don’t sound so bad.

Mexico’s Fate…in whose hands?

I asked missionary colleague Ryan Thomas to write a prayer devotional for our Missionary Fellowship.  He wrote the following devotional that was posted on www.mexicoag.org.   I felt it was worth sharing.

Ezekiel 22: 23-31:

Again the word of the LORD came to me: “Son of man, say to the land, ‘You are a land that has had no rain or showers in the day of wrath.’ There is a conspiracy of her princes within her like a roaring lion tearing its prey; they devour people, take treasures and precious things and make many widows within her. Her priests do violence to my law and profane my holy things; they do not distinguish between the holy and the common; they teach that there is no difference between the unclean and the clean; and they shut their eyes to the keeping of my Sabbaths, so that I am profaned among them. Her officials within her are like wolves tearing their prey; they shed blood and kill people to make unjust gain. Her prophets whitewash these deeds for them by false visions and lying divinations. They say, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says’-when the LORD has not spoken. The people of the land practice extortion and commit robbery; they oppress the poor and needy and mistreat the alien, denying them justice.

“I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none. So I will pour out my wrath on them and consume them with my fiery anger, bringing down on their own heads all they have done, declares the Sovereign LORD.”

You’ll notice in this passage that God points out five levels of society to Ezekiel and reveals the corruption, violence and sin that is destroying each area:

1. The Princes – these are the highest rulers in the land. God reveals that they are devouring the people, destroying families and taking the wealth of the land.

2. The Priests – the religious leaders. They do not expose sin and they profane God’s Name, actually turning people away from true righteousness.

3. The Public Officials – the local leaders. They destroy lives for money.

4. The Prophets – the spiritual influencers of the land. They give false visions and revelations, helping to hide the true state of sinfulness in the nation.

5. The People – the masses. They also practice sin, stealing from and mistreating one another.

When I read this passage I immediately think of Mexico. For centuries corruption, greed and violence have destroyed every level of society in this country, from Presidents down to the local store shop owners on every corner. Idolatry, theft, bribery and murder have ravaged this nation. Even now we are seeing another wave of violence and corruption that is destroying lives.

But just as in Ezekiel’s time, God is looking for those who would see what He sees and stand in the gap in intercession so that He can pour out mercy and grace instead of judgment and wrath. Unfortunately for the case with Ezekiel, God “found none”. That has to be one of the most tragic verses in the whole Bible! There was not one person that God could share His heart with, reveal the true situation of the nation to, and who would respond in selfless love to intercede for mercy.

I pray that God would find in you and I people who are willing to receive His burden and His love to stand in the gap on behalf of Mexico. Allow the Holy Spirit to break you and cause you to cry out to God for mercy for every one of these five levels of society.

Pray for:

1. The President of Mexico – Felipe Calderón. Pray that God would touch him, his family and those in his inner circle of leadership that they would bow their knees to Jesus Christ and rule with righteousness.

2. The Religious leaders of Mexico. Pray for Catholic Priests to have a revelation of the Risen Lord! Pray for Pastors of all denominations to rise up and preach truth.

3. The Local leaders in Mexico. Pray for Senators, Mayors and Municipal Leaders to come to Christ, to govern with righteousness, to turn from bribery and extortion.

4. The Spiritual Influencers of Mexico. Pray that God would break the back of idolatry and witchcraft in Mexico, that He would shut the mouths of false prophets and raise up true preachers of righteousness in the land.

5. Pray for the people of Mexico. Pray that God would grant repentance to the people of Mexico, that they would come to a true knowledge of Jesus Christ.

The fate of Mexico is not in the hands of the President, or the Federal Police, or any other organization… it’s in the hands of the Church. May we feel God’s pain and God’s love and be moved to our knees.

Streets are empty, but churches are full

(Copied from our ministry site)

Ciudad Juarez is a war-zone. This border city that sits across the Rio Grande from El Paso, Texas has been making headlines for years. In recent years, it has been dubbed the killing fields of Mexico for it’s number of murdered women.Today the headlines announce murders resulting from the drug war that has escalated in response to President Calderon’s crack down on narco-trafficking.

We know Juarez; we’ve driven through it hundreds of times during our two recent terms living in Chihuahua city and later in the Old Colony Camps of Cuauhtemoc. It was a busy place that took forever to drive through.

We also know several Assembly of God pastors and district leaders from there. One of them, Mr. Chavez, was here in Oaxaca last week. As Mike spent a few moments greeting him and speaking with him, Pastor Chavez stated this:

It is a war-zone. The streets are empty. People are afraid to go out. It used to be you stayed away from certain areas that were known to be dangerous, but now the entire city is dangerous. Small businesses are suffering. The gangs don’t bother being discreet any longer. If they want to shoot a rival, they will do it without caring who is nearby to be caught in the cross-fire, whether it be a restaurant or a grocery store. But our churches are filled. And there are no longer denominational barriers. We are in unity and revival is beginning.”

It is a bittersweet message. Each one of us senses shock and sadness at the killings, yet hearing the testimony of church leaders causes a rejoicing. Why does it have to be this way? Can’t their be revival- a true revival of repentance, not a pseudo revival of feel good services and woo-hoo personal prophecies- without suffering, difficulty and persecution?

That’s a good question to ponder. Some scriptures that come to mind:

…but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more,so that, as sin reigned in death, even so grace would reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 5:20,21

“Before I was afflicted, I went astray. It was good for me to be afflicted, so I might learn your statutes” Psalm 119:67,71

Dave Wilkerson’s Urgent Message

He said shortly after 9/11 that something bigger will come.  Saturday he posted an urgent message.  I try not to be flighty nor fearful, nor run with the latest sensational news, but this man has a record of being right in his prophetic messages.

Read his blog – and decide for yourself.

Maranatha.

Child’s Play

The kids stared at us shyly when we first arrived. Typical. Not sure how to approach us, the foreigners, the americanos, the gringos, they stand back and respond with a grin when smiled at and greeted.
Games always break the ice. We started playing with them, first a game of tag, then the girls started their hand clapping games with cute chants. We joined in. I asked them if I could take a photo of all the fun. They giggled and approved. My daughter stayed in to play. Guess which one she is.

Peace in Uncertainty

There was a lot of noise last night. Our dogs were causing quite a scandal with their barking; then the neighbors’ dogs started up. It was dark and we couldn’t see anything, but the pups seemed to be bothered at something toward the other neighbors house- which has been vacant since the owner moved out seven months ago (but left it furnished I must add.)

Some concern was already present since yesterday morning we were told about a guy hanging around the street looking very out of place. A lady described him to me this way, “He had light colored and wild hair, was very skinny, with a huge tattoo on one arm”. In short, he scared her and he was definitely not from this pueblo.

Then my husband dreamt last night that someone was standing over our bed with a gun, and when he saw him he jumped up and tried to grab the guys face. He woke up with a burden to pray (this happens occasionally). I asked him if he was sure it was only a dream.

To add to the drama, we were told today that one of our pups was poisoned yesterday. This is the second dog poisoning we’ve had. The pups mom was poisoned in October, two days before our house was broken into and we were robbed. Both times, the lady that helps us out saved the dogs by forcing milk into them, which works as an antidote.

Poisoning dogs is common here in Mexico. A piece of food, stuffed with some type of poison, is thrown over the fence for the dog to eat. People here have dogs for protection. Criminals here throw poison to dogs to remove that protection.

So what do we do? Move? Pray? Get more dogs? What we do is keep trusting the Lord and continue being sensitive to his leading.

If we feel prompted to move (to another part of Oaxaca), we will. There is no guarantee, however, that any other area would be safer. The teachers’ strikes are increasing in town, which frustrates us to no end. They without warning will hijack a bus and block traffic and mess up thousands of commuters. Yesterday they hijacked more than a dozen buses and the newspapers stated something about ‘acts of violence’. Two years ago Oaxaca made international news with the extensive strikes that crippled the entire city, then turned violent and deadly before the army finally came in. Yes, these are teachers (fueled and aided by a national communist group).

On a national level, this country is daily becoming less secure. You may be hearing all sort of news about travel alerts and other advisory’s from the US Dept. of Defense. Today this country is what Columbia was twenty years ago; the narco’s army is now the same size as the national gov’t army, and no one really knows where all this is headed.

Whether danger may be near of far, Jesus promised to keep us in perfect peace as we keep our minds focused on Him. He also promises to respond to our prayers and to the intercession offered by others.

If you pray for us, we thank you sincerely. Please don’t stop.

Missionary Dating

We’re missionaries and we go on dates.  Gotta keep the romance alive! 

We went to an Argentine restaurant here in Oaxaca.  I had a delicious arrachera steak for about $9, while hubby opted for grilled fish…since he knew he’d be finishing my steak!

Then we had some fun with the camera:

 

It’s important for every couple to set aside time for each other.  Many times missionaries don’t do this; sometimes due to ministry overload, other times due to finances, and even at times for difficulty in finding trustworthy child care (boy do I have stories of that!) 

We’ve learned (now that we’re older and a bit wiser) that it is essential to make time and save up for such occasions.  After all, if the marriage ends up failing, what good has the ministry done?  All is lost.

As Christ’s ambassadors, we must first represent in our own marriage the relationship between Christ and his bride, the church.

And woo-hoo! what fun that can be!

Iguana Medusa – Friday Photo from the Field

On a morning in a Oaxacan market, photographer Graciela Iturbide made one of the most enduring images of Zapotec life”

This photo was taken in 1979, and the lady in it, who became somewhat of a local celebrity as her image was used extensively, has since died.  I have seen many women here carry many things on their head, but have to admit I haven’t seen any ‘iguana ladies’.  Probably when we begin teaching in areas to the south and toward the Isthmus we’ll see them.  To read the complete Smithsonian article by Lynelle George, click here

Back Labor

Friday Photo from the Field:

This photo was snapped further up our street as we were taking the kids to school.  This is a common sight in our pueblo.  Sometimes it’s a man, sometimes a woman.  Sometimes they carry hay for feed, other times wood for the fire.

Let me ask you this: If you were driving past this man, would you offer him a ride?  Why or why not?

If you said yes, you have the same impulse we had in the beginning- and probably for the same reason: because we want to help them out or perhaps even feel bad for them. “Poor soul“, we think.  And there we go thinking like Americans again.  Truth be told, they’ve been doing this their entire life and they don’t feel inconvenienced at all!  They would be offended to be called a ‘poor soul’. Sometimes in this culture when help or a kindness is offered (what we perceive as such), it does not bring about the expected response.  Usually it’s a strange look that asks, “why?”

Even though I’m stretching the connection, I couldn’t help but think of these verses in Galatians 6:

v2  Bear one another’s burden’s, and so fulfill Christ’s law

v5  For each one shall bear his own load

The River – humor for women

A friend from Cleveland sent this to me via e-mail.  Since I’m hard pressed for time and high speed internet, I’m posting these ‘forwards’  to keep my blog from becoming stale.  Hope you have a good laugh.  And if by chance you are a guy reading this, well, it’s all in fun, eh?

Three men were hiking through a forest when they came upon a large raging, violent river. Needing to get to the other side, the first man prayed: ‘God, please give me the strength to cross the river.’ Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs and he was able to swim across in about 2 hours, having almost drowned twice.

After witnessing that, the second man prayed: ‘God, please give me strength and the  tools to cross the river’.  Poof! … God gave him a rowboat and strong arms and strong legs and he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.

Seeing what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed: ‘God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross the river’. Poof! … He was turned in to a woman. She checked the map, hiked one hundred yards up stream and walked across the bridge.

If you’re not laughing very hard, you must be of the male gender.  That’s okay since my friend left this message for married men tagged to the bottom of her e-mail:

If at first you don’t succeed, do it the way your wife told you!’

Nacho Libre Bike

Welcome to “Friday Photo from the Field”.   Today’s photo is of a vendors bike that my kids call the “Nacho Libre Bike”. Yes, they really do have these in Mexico!  I remember last year while still in Ohio a few teens came over to watch the movie (Nacho Libre) with our boys and they really thought those bikes were props made especially for the movie.  No, they are the real deal and were you to come visit us here in Oaxaca, you’d see them everywhere.

Here, this young lady is sitting outside of a bank selling ‘aguas’.  These are different ‘waters’ or juices such as agua de limon (lemonade) and jamaica (drink made from hibiscus flowers) to name a couple.  Others will sell tamales, candy, or just about anything that can make them a peso or two.

Piropos- Flirtations

Latins do have a romantic reputation now, don’t they?  Every Valentine’s Day brings out a new host of piropos, or flirtatious sayings around here.  I love them!  They go both ways, too:  from the man to the woman or from the woman to the man.

Here’s a sampling of a few.  (They flow much nicer in Spanish, and many of them rhyme):

• If beauty were seconds, you’d be 24 hours.
• When you take a sip, I want to be the glass, to meet at your lips and give you a kiss on the mouth
• You’re late! I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.
• To tell myself to stop thinking of you is like telling my heart to stop beating.
• You’re like a capuccino:  sweet, hot, and you make me nervous!
• I’ll only stop loving you the day an artist can paint the sound of a tear falling…
• Didn’t you get hurt when you fell from the sky?
• Heaven must be sad to have lost a beautiful angel like you
• When you’re in my arms, I forever wonder how much I owe destiny for the fortune it gave me to be with you
• If your arms were my chains, and loving you my prison, what a joy it would be to serve my sentence!
• I wish I were one of your tears:  born in your eyes, fall down your cheeks, and die on your lips.

Help! Has God left you in the dark?

(This devotion by Dave Wilkerson was sent to me via e-mail by Hellen. Thanks!)

I know what it is like to face divine silence, not to hear God’s voice for a season. I have walked through periods of total confusion with no apparent guidance, the still small voice behind me completely silent. There were times when I had no friend nearby to satisfy my heart with a word of advice. All my patterns of guidance from before had gone awry, and I was left in total darkness. I could not see my way, and I made mistake after mistake. I wanted to say, “O God, what has happened? I don’t know which way to go!”

Does God really hide his face from those he loves? Isn’t it possible he lifts his hand for a short while to teach us trust and dependence? The Bible answers clearly: “God left him [Hezekiah], to try him, that he might know all that was in his heart” (2 Chronicles 32:31).

You may be going through a flood of trials right now. You know what I’m talking about when I say the heavens are as brass. You know all about repeated failures. You’ve waited and waited for answers to prayer. You’ve been served a cup of affliction. Nothing and nobody can touch that need in your heart!

That’s the time to take your stand! You don’t have to be able to laugh or rejoice, because you may not have any happiness at the moment. In fact, you may have nothing but turmoil in your soul. But you can know God is still with you, because Scripture says, “The Lord sitteth upon the flood; yea, the Lord sitteth King for ever” (Psalm 29:10).

Soon you will hear His voice: Don’t get excited, don’t panic. Just keep your eyes on me. Commit all things to me. And you will know that you remain the object of his incredible love.

More devotionals visit http://davidwilkersontoday.blogspot.com

For more sermons by David Wilkerson, please visit http://www.worldchallenge.org/en/pulpit_series_newsletters

The good and the not-so-good

I posted on our ministry blog a wonderful testimony of an unexpected (and unusual) invitation. Let’s just say it involves tequila and some missionaries. Got your interest? Good! Click here to read it on our blog.

That’s the good. Now for the not-so-good:

This week I also posted some recent facts regarding our host country and today’s news gives more insight to why it’s vulnerable for collapse.

I only write this as a prayer motivator for you who are reading. There are many missionaries who serve in this country for whom you can pray. There are also millions of innocent lives who need your prayers.

Would you consider adding to your  schedule a few minutes of intercession today?

Bonnie and Clyde strike again

Meet Bonnie and Clyde, our six month old puppies.  They’re at it daily. 

Fully living up to their name, they have been running across the neighborhood stealing, wreaking havoc and killing.  Funniest thing is, we don’t have much of a neighborhood.  Just a few houses along a dirt road with lots of brush and untamed countryside.

Yeah, sure they look cute in the photo. Don’t let ‘em fool you.  That’s their sweet “who us?” look.  What’s a family to do?

First it was someone’s sombrero.  Then a huarache.  This was followed by other contraband like shirts, pants, and work gloves.  You name it, they’ve drug it home.  One day it was a mans bathing suit.  Yikes!  There is a dam half a mile down from us and we’re hoping they didn’t leave someone shivering out there.

One day an old wrinkled man came by asking if anyone had seen his sombrero.  Another day, our neighbor let us know she went looking for one of her lost chicks when she saw Clyde by our fence looking happy as he had chick fuzz stuck to his snout.  So now their antics are deadly…at least to the neighbors chicks.  Yesterday he was caught red-pawed:  another baby chick in his mouth.  His disobedience shocked me when he refused to drop the chick when ordered to do so and instead ran off to finish his impromptu meal.

We thought we’ve closed up all the holes in our fence, but these two are good at their game. They’re also good at guarding the house.  Bonnie (left in photo) barks defensively because its in her genes, but fearless Clyde (with white chest) goes on the offensive with anyone who happens near our gate. 

That’s exactly why we put up with this puppy trouble.  After our robbery in October, these two bring a measure of security.  We just wonder how long to expect to put up with this phase of puppyhood?

How to be a friend of God

That contemporary Christian song popped into my mind that repeats, “I am a friend of God..He calls me friend”.  Do you know it? It’s one of those feel-good songs with a catchy tune.  

It came about as a domino effect in my mind. You know, the women are like spaghetti teaching that says all our thoughts somehow weave and connect to others. 

Well, we received a thank you note from evangelist friends who are currently working with ex-inmates. In the note, the wife shared how they are fulfilled as they teach about the fear of the Lord.

These guys and gals are really hungry to learn how to stay out of prison, 24/7. Walking in the fear of the Lord is the answer! They write a 250 word paper each week on how the fear of the Lord ties in to whatever problems they are experiencing- finances, sex, marriage, envy, tongue control and so on.”

Reading that renewed an interest in me to look into the fear of the Lord, something to which I recently haven’t given much attention.  There are many verses that mention the fear of the Lord, but the one that particularly caught my attention was this one:

Friendship with the Lord is reserved for those who fear Him.” Psalm 25:14

This verse flew at me and grabbed hold of me with talons of truth, which then in turn slowly caused a series of questions and thoughts to bleed from my heart and mind.

Drip.

God reserves his friendships. Although He’s willing to save all who call on Him and we in turn become His child, there is a requirement to being His friend.

Drip.

Enter the tune in my mind.  “I am a friend of God….He calls me friend”.  Enter the scripture again, “Friendship with the Lord is reserved for those who fear him.”

Drip.

Fear Him. What? How?  Then I remembered a teaching on this years ago:  “To fear the Lord, simply put, means to hate what God hates and to love what God loves.”

Drip.

God loves purity, integrity, honesty.  He loves a broken and contrite heart.  He loves meekness, faith, and justice. He loves those who seek Him.

Drip.

God hates murder, lying, and arrogant men.  He hates divorce and sexual perversion.  He hates lukewarm faith and those who spread strife among brothers.  He hates injustice, perverse lips, and those who worship idols.

Drip.

Then this thought came: do we fear Him in our churches as we sing that song?  Or do we sing it between weeks spent watching fornication and immorality on TV as we excuse the ‘bad parts’ for the sake of good acting or humor (i.e. House, The Office, to name a couple), or perhaps we just had to see the latest Oscar-quality movie, even though it’s replete with sex scenes and other sins (i.e. Curious Case of Benjamin Button)?

Drip.

Did we sing that song with tingles in our spine two days before we voted a man into office who embraces abomination (homosexuality) and pays for murder (abortion) – two things that God clearly hates?  Did we become a friend of God by hoping to save the earth and boost the economy?

Drip.

Do we sing it on the way home from a women’s Bible study where we just had a grand ole religious time taking prayer requests saturated in gossip that will soon cause strife among others?

Drip.

Is it sung from lips of those whose eyes are secretly addicted to pornography?

Drip.

Is it sung by those in ministry who use the platform to increase their name?

Drip.

Is it sung by those who rob God and say they can’t afford to pay tithes and give offerings while their little plastic idols keep growing their debt as material ’stuff’ is added to their family altar?

Drip.

Do we sing it while pushing life to full throttle, too busy to spend quality time in prayer and in seeking Him?

Drip.

Do we fear Him or do we just want to add Him to our Facebook list of friends?

Drip.

God sets aside a place for us to be his friend, when we fear Him.  God help us to be Your friend.  Teach us to love what you love and hate what you hate! Transform us Lord as we renew our mind to fear you, to respect you with a Holy awe.

Teach us to be like those ex-inmates, who have learned the secret to true friendship: walking in the fear of the Lord.  Amen!

You don’t get paid?

When we were back in the states last month, I had two different people ask me that question as we were talking about the ministry we do.  They know we are fully appointed missionaries, meaning that we are wholly supported by churches and individuals through our sending agency, and therefore draw a salary from part of that support.

However, the question was asked in the context of our working and teaching at educational institutions.  (One is a bible institute and the other is the national missions training center).

My surprise at their question mirrored their surprise at my answer.

They had assumed that since we are working in an educational environment, there was some remuneration from the institutions themselves- after all, college professors in the US are paid, aren’t they?

I had assumed they knew that missionaries, once on the field, depend one hundred percent on the support they are promised; no income from any source within the host country is received, regardless of the ministry or work.

How about you?  What do you assume (or simply not know) about missionaries and their support/pay?

If you are a missionary, have you experienced similar conversations?  Have you assumed ‘everyone out there’ knows these things?

Your feedback would be interesting.

Faith is…

Faith is not the belief that God will do what you want. Faith is the belief that God will do what is right.            ~Max Lucado

He always does.  He’s always just.  Have faith in Him today!

Where I’m From

An MK (missionary kid) poem

Where I’m From

I’m from here to there
from near to far
from “time to move again”
and buy another car.

I’m from the grace of God
and the love of the Lord
to “we don’t know the plan
of what he’s got in store”.

I’m from the desert lands
and the barren plains
we got to leave again
and the mental pains.

I’m from the highs and lows
from the ups and downs
to we’ll get there
and receive our heavenly crowns.

by Michael Hadinger

From Snow to Guayabas

We’ve swung a full pendulum’s worth of experiences in the last month.  We left Oaxaca in December and arrived in Ohio, going from warmth to cold, from Spanish speaking friends to German and Hungarian speaking relatives, from mole and empanadas to stuffed peppers and halushka.

Then there were mental transitions (yup, Americans think different than southern Mexicans) as well as materialistic transitions (economic crisis is relative to its culture).

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Along with the ethnic subcultures among our families, we also experienced a generational subculture at the World Missions Summit we attended with approximately 3,000 university students and a host of other missionaries.

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Now we’re back in Oaxaca.  We left in a snowstorm last weekend as the plows tried clearing  the runway for take off, then we landed safely on a mountain plateau, arriving home to find our guayaba tree filled with fruit and the bougainvillea outside my kitchen window in full fuchsia bloom.

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I’m so glad God isn’t limited to place or people!  He is the constant as my world turns.

Pleasing God: a rewarding resolution

Lose weight, earn more money, quit smoking, and more education are likely found in the top ten list of New Years Resolutions.  These, like most resolutions, are good and worthwhile commitments to self-improvement.

Yet as I was reading my Bible, a verse jumped out reminding me of something eternally good and worthwhile that uniquely aids in my ongoing commitment to self-improvement:

II Corinthians 5: 9  “We make it our goal to please him.”

“To please him“.  A goal of pleasing God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.  Hmm.

I paused, then asked myself, “How can I please God?” What is it that really makes Him smile?

Before turning back to the Scripture, my mind began scrolling through a brief list of possibilities:

• do more ministry (busy, busy!)
• build a bigger, better ministry (proof of God’s blessing, right?)
• live a trouble -free life (now that’s faith!)

But then I was gently nudged away from popular contemporary thought and returned to a Biblical path which I found quite distinct.  Some truths I rediscovered on how I can please God:

• Micah 6:8
  • Do right
  • Be kind
  • Walk humbly with God
• Psalm 51
  • Have truth in my heart
  • Have a broken and contrite heart
• Psalm 46:10
  • Stop running so much
  • Take time to know that He is God
• Colossians 1:10
  • Bear fruit in my good works
  • increase my knowledge of God
• Thess 2:3-6
  • Stop being a people pleaser
  • Stop flattering others
  • Not cover my greed
• I Thess 4:1-12
  • Live pure
  • Avoid sexual immorality
  • Control my body
  • Mind my own business
  • Work with my hands
  • Live quietly
• Hebrews 11:6
  • Have faith that God exists and rewards me when I seek Him

There are more, but this is a good basis for now.  The anomaly I suspect in this is that self-improvements will come as I make it my ambition to please God rather than myself.

Truly a rewarding resolution.

‘Twas the month after Christmas

 

‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste
All the holiday goodies have gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The chocolates and rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”
As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt—
I said to myself, as only I can,
“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”
So–away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
The last bit of food I like must be banished
‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie–not even a lick.
I’ll want to chew only on a long celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread,v or pie,
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m craving, and this food is a bore—
But isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

– Author unknown. -

 

(sent to me by Hellen, my Canadian friend. Vielen dank!)

Resolutions: Still robust or quickly retreating?

For me, neither.  I didn’t make one- yet.  My curiosity does wonder how many are coming along so far in theirs after a whopping five days into the new year.

One study shows that spiritual people will have a tendency to fair better in keeping resolutions given their greater degree of self control.* 

Yet a poll by Christianity Today on New Year’s Resolutions reveals the highest percentage of (spiritual) people who responded don’t even make resolutions since they don’t believe they work!**

Go figure, since I resolve not to.

 

*The Road to Resolutions by K. Beaty

** CT Poll

Why did the king stand?

Once again, I heard the story on the radio last night of how the tradition of standing during the Hallelujah Chorus of Handel’s Messiah began: King George II stood during that part of the performance, and given that all were to stand when the king stood, the rest of the audience stood as well.

The host commented on various explanations given for which King George II stood:

• His gout acted up at that moment and his discomfort caused him to stand
• An hour into the performance, he just needed to stretch his legs
• He arrived late – precisely at the moment of “The Hallelujah Chorus”
• He was moved by the performance
• Though a king himself, he recognized his subjection to Jesus Christ, the King of kings and Lord of lords.

Why do you think he stood?

I’d love to hear a comment from you about your vote in this poll.

Phonetically correct, if you eh-speek eh-spahnich

Translation:  We Wish You a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

We wondered if this was the flip version of S-O-C-K-S (Eso si que es) that some corny company was promoting a few years ago as learning to speak Spanish (remember that)? Then we discovered this is part of an ad for a techie company called Wiwichu.

So, in the spirit of the season, from my corazon to jewers, Feliz Navidad!

Just Making Noises

Misunderstandings are the way of life when working cross culturally.  Speaking and communicating can be polar opposites as thoughts are processed from varying perspectives.  Naturally everyone believes themselves to be correct and often detailed explanations yield little gain.

It can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s funny.  I laughed out loud as I came across this anecdote in my current read, The Hacienda, A Memoir by Lisa St. Aubin de Teran.  My missionary amigas will identify, I’m sure.

The rest of Joanna’s stay was spent immersed in the hacienda. She loved Casa Grande and its grounds…Matilde was fascinated by her inability to speak Spanish, as were Alba and Lorena, who wanted to know if it was because she had been dropped on her head as a baby.  Every time Joanna said anything and I translated with a ‘Doña Joanna says…’, they looked at me askance and said, ‘But how do you know that?’  

‘Because she just told me so’. ‘

‘But she didn’t say anything, we heard her, she just makes noises.’

Today is Market Day- Here’s a brief tour…

Actually, every day is market day, but the fresh produce comes on Tuesdays and Fridays.  It’s chaotic and we love it. 

It’s hard to imagine where the abundance of regional fruits and vegetables comes from…and how inexpensive they can be.  (Good thing, too- it offsets the cost of being gringos and having to pay extra for other things).

Box trucks back up, open their back hatch, and the goods come spilling out onto a table waiting to be bartered for.  I’m tempted to go again with my camera to take photos of rows upon rows of neatly stacked pineapples and papayas, the 50 lb bags of oranges, the baskets full of jalapeno’s and garlic, and so on.  But why look like a tourist or a foreigner if I can help it?

Besides, I already did that once.  Yeah, I swallowed my pride and snapped a few shots.  Below are some photos.  Too bad I couldn’t capture the sounds, the bustle, the sleeping toddlers, or the pleading eyes of the abuelas as they tried to convince me to buy from them.

Enjoy the tour.

Here we are in stop-and-go traffic.  Most people take taxis or buses.  We still have another kilometer or so to go.

This is the outskirts of the market.  Just a few vendors trying to sell the little they have.

Now we’re inside…sort of.  It’s really a street where hundreds of tarps are stretched out  side by side and the vendors set up there tables underneath.  Look long enough and you’ll see a delicious salsa coming together.  Careful- you’re drooling on your keyboard.

Piñata anyone? 

That, my friend, is dried seafood.  The mounds of pink are dried shrimp while the baskets on the bottom shelf are dried, halved fish with their eyes and tails still intact.  Naturally you’d buy tortillas, on the walls, to make your meal complete.

This vendor has a friendly exchange with her neighboring competitor.

I saved the best for last: flowers.  Oodles of them, and some varieties I can’t even pronounce. 

Come visit me and I’ll take you in person.  Oh, and bring your video camera, will you?

Anyone Praying?

Last week as my husband, along with another missionary, was driving twelve hours north of here, the car broke down.  Five hours and $650.00 (US dollars) later, they managed to be on their way.  We thanked God they were safe, as two gringos broken down on the side of the road with US plates can be an invitation for trouble.  Little did we know there would be greater danger on their return trip.

Heading south out of Queretaro and into Estado de Mexico, they were pulled over by a corrupt policeman who demanded $5,500 pesos for carrying cargo illegally.  Mike assured him it was not cargo (items to be sold) rather personal belongings and household items.  After some time of ‘discussion’ and threats, the policeman offered to let him go with a minimal fine, paid right there.  A short time later, corrupt cop numero dos stops the guys and says the car is illegal and therefore demanded another hefty fine.  My husband refused to pay and showed him the sticker on the windshield- the permit for the car to be in the country legally.  More ‘discussion’ until finally the cops’ partner gets weary of the argument, or nervous, and taps his buddy and says, “leave him alone and let’s go”. 

The next, and last, stop would be life threatening.  But who knew?  Even I sat at home waiting for hubby’s arrival completely unaware of the situation in which they found themselves.

Within the hour, they are pulled over again.  Same spiel, same yada yada.  My husband again refuses to meet his demand- this time the confiscation of our vehicle! As before, the policia asks to see his drivers license and permit and again Mike holds it firmly to show without handing them over. Except this cop grabs them quickly out of Mike’s hand and gives orders to follow him to the ’station’. 

Before Mike and his friend realized their predicament, they found themselves approaching a dusty dead end to the road they turned onto.  The ‘cop’ gets out and tells them to pull into a yard – a junk yard with a heavy metal door waiting open.  Mike flatly tells this guy there is no way he is pulling in there.  The cop waves the license and tells Mike he has no choice if he wants it back, and casually saunters in to the yard.  So Mike tells our friend, who is now on the phone with an official from Oaxaca, to stay in the car and keep it running while he walks in there to get his license and permit back.  And by the way, he adds, if you hear a loud noise or any trouble, take off and find help.

Mike would later tell me he didn’t think he would make it out of there alive. It wasn’t until he entered the yard that he saw the half dozen or so rough characters hanging around the perimeter.  He approached a desk where another burly sort waited for business to be transacted – which now was a $ 1,450.00 peso fine, since they didn’t get the car full of our stuff as they had hoped.  Reiterating the fact that he neither has it nor would pay it, Mike was just wanting out of there fast.  Finally, he saw no other solution and therefore pulled a couple bills from his wallet, dropped it on the table, grabbed his license and turned around to leave.  He expected either a bullet in the back or to be jumped, since the amount was measly and no where near what they wanted. But he kept walking and made it to the car. Someone did follow him but stopped when they saw a lady walking across the street.  The poor lady happened to look up just then, and her face froze with fear at the sight of the man. She wasted no time in leaving. However, that slight distraction allowed Mike to hop in the car and leave in a cloud of dust.

They made it to Oaxaca at midnight and Mike dropped into bed grateful to be home and alive. 

Anything could have happened back there.  I’m glad my hubby has a stubborn streak- it saved his life and the life of our friend.  I’m glad God sends his angels to watch over us. These guys had wanted the ’stuff’ in the car and wouldn’t have cared for witnesses, if you get the drift.  No one would have ever known.

Was anyone praying?  

Captivating Poinsettias a la Natural

We’re not talking potted plants here.  We’re talking the real deal.  I shared them on Facebook, my daughter shared them on her blog…and now I’m sharing them with you.

These are photos I took from our little pueblo.  I wish you could see them in real life, since the multi-dimensional beauty can not be completely captured on a photo.  Enjoy them all the same:

This last photo is the neighbors house…look in the middle above the roof.  That is a poinsettia bush (tree?).

Our Anniversary and Day of the Dead

When we planned our wedding day for November 1st twenty one years ago, never would we have imagined that we would be in Mexico, where Dia de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is a much celebrated holiday on the same day.

Well, here we are.  Everyone has been buying flowers the past few days to build altars in their homes for their departed loved ones.  Everyone, that is, except us and the rest of the Christian community.  My husband did buy flowers- to remind me of a covenant made at an altar.  That covenant is anything but dead.

Many people are traveling to homes of loved ones; Mexican highways are busy this weekend.  My hubby as well is traveling this weekend.  Today, our anniversary, he spent sitting behind a wheel driving from Oaxaca to San Luis Potosi while I stayed home and did laundry and read in the sun.  Never fear, we did spend a wonderful afternoon together yesterday.  We had a nice lunch together and even ended up with some fine chocolate I carried home in one hand while the roses were in the other.

A romantic dinner is planned for later this month in the zocalo, downtown Oaxaca, which has a charm all it’s own and is the perfect place to celebrate such an important day.

Not a pretty sight

There are some things one looks forward to getting; other things don’t stir such excitement.  Like photos taken after a house was robbed.

From a friends cell phone to a CD to my computer…and now to my blog, here are a few photos of the heist that took place a few weeks ago:

This is one of several taken of the master bedroom. The jewelry box on top of the dresser emptied; my clothes strewn all over the floor.  They found my irreplaceable treasures that were hidden among my personals, including the white gold wedding band and engagement ring passed down from my mother, inlaid with diamonds and a ruby.  My husband added the ruby, my birthstone,  on our 15th anniversary to fill the gap where the center diamond had once sat.

Our boys’ room.  The valuable from here was our third sons electric guitar. He just began playing six months ago. He’s pretty bummed.

Our daughters room.  What would they find of value in an 8 yr. old girls room?  Not much, which is why they didn’t tear it apart like the others.  However, they emptied her jewelry box too.  Little earrings from Claires, perhaps a nail polish or two she kept in there.  But what really broke her heart was finding the necklace her Missionette leader gave her before we left Ohio missing.  It will not net anything for the thieves.  They probably just tossed it.  And left an 8 yr. old in tears.

And that made this mom mad!  It’s one thing when we hurt, it’s a whole new ball game when it’s our younger kids who have been hurt.  I am mom, hear me roar.  (All the mom’s out there said amen!)

Point of entry.  Although not a fan of Rottweilers nor Pit Bulls, the thought of having had one present, waiting hungrily to face the intruder(s) is a macabre one I’ve entertained.  As it is, our Cocker Spaniel and her pups did nothing, except perhaps barter tummy rubs for a guided tour of our home.

Was it you?

After the robbery, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to people in this pueblo.

It is a very typical Mexican pueblo: narrow dirt roads, adobe houses with either tin or clay tile roofs, big yellow Catholic church with its red dome and accents built on the main square, and adults walking to and fro donning sombreros on their heads of thick black hair and huaraches on their dirty calloused feet.  Just about everyone knows everyone – and everyone else’s business to boot.

We’ve tried to get to know the town.  Our boys have played basketball in the square and soccer on the hill. We’ve smiled and waved as we’ve driven by, or have spoken a greeting when walking past. 

We’ve tried to be friendly- to be that fragrance of Christ of which Paul writes the Corinthian church in his second letter.

However, since the robbery brought on negative feelings of mistrust and anger, I wasn’t sure I wanted to smile at anyone.  I knew I wouldn’t frown at them or give them mean looks, rather just ignore them for the time being.  That way, I reasoned, I wouldn’t have to wonder,”Was it you?” every time I looked someone in the eye.

I know that’s unfair to suspect anyone and everyone.  But it seems my emotions never do play fair.  Do yours? My emotions worked in tandem with my thoughts, convincing me that it was known who had robbed us, now causing me to wonder, “If it wasn’t you, was it your neighbor? Your cousin? Father? Son? Mother????”

But thank God he doesn’t allow us to wallow in our weaknesses too long.  He takes the pain and confusion and somehow, mysteriously replaces it with those good things that come from Him…

…Because I’m surrendered to Him and He knows He has lordship in my life to do that.

…Because others are praying.  Who can figure that out? People pray and God answers. He replies to those requests by refreshing our spirit, renewing our hope, and reviving that peace that passes comprehension.

As we drove through the town yesterday,  do you know what I did?  I smiled and waved.

And I meant it.

An Eye for an Eye Sounds Good…

While in Texas for missionary meetings last week, we were robbed. Our house in Mexico was invaded. Mattresses were overturned, drawers emptied with their contents dumped all over the floor, pants and suit jackets with pockets turned inside out in search of dollars and pesos, my jewelry box left barren.

When we first received the e-mail a week ago Wednesday stating the fact, we were shocked, angry and sad.  I wanted whoever did this to hurt and have pain to the same degree that we felt.

An eye for an eye.  No grace surfaced on my part.  It was pure law I wanted.  My DH  said we should pray for whomever did this, and my first thought was, ‘yeah, like ask God to send the lighting bolt or have the earth swallow them whole.  Amen.’ 

Surprised?  Should a missionary like myself really be feeling these things?  Does this blow your image of a super spiritual pasted-smile person who walks around saying Praise-the-Lord anyhow? 

I used to be more “spiritual” like that, but that mask doesn’t fit anymore. Somewhere over the years of sickness and struggle, trials and tears, like the Velveteen Rabbit, I became real. 

A couple days after receiving the news, my shock and anger subsided.  We were among friends.  We had laughter, good devotionals, and good worship.  I went shopping and found clearance items at Penney’s.  My mind was distracted and my spirit was refreshed.

Then it was time to return to Mexico. 

It wasn’t until yesterday when we arrived back to Oaxaca, left the terminal and were in our car heading towards the house that anxiety and apprehension appeared.  Suddenly the car was quiet- even with two teenage boys and their eight year old sister in it.

We pulled up to the gate and sat there.  Usually one of the boys wastes no time in hopping out and unlocking the gate, but no hurry was present this time.  After a few minutes and a “well, here we go“, the gate was unlocked, the front door opened, and our arrival complete.

Then I regressed to those same feelings I shared exactly a week earlier. 

The violation hit hard in our presence.  Someone out there had invaded our space.  OUR space, not THEIR space. They took OUR things, and now those things are gone.

The spot where the TV used to sit wailed in it’s stillness.  The hands of a teenage boy can’t pick up that electric guitar to play out the melodies that brought him joy and comfort. The empty jewelry boxes gaped at me, stirring a bitter loss as my thoughts turned to my grandmother and mother, to whom those treasures once belonged.  Add these to the rest of the items missing and our losses near five thousand dollars.

An eye for an eye? Sounds good to me. Presently, that is.

I’ve a feeling that love, mercy, grace and forgiveness will soon come knocking on my hearts door.  Should I let them in? 

It’s a choice I have to make.  It’s a choice, one time or another, we all have to make.

Bad Bush Behavior or Continuing Clinton Calamity?

Sometimes the farmer reaping gets blamed for the seeds of the sower…

In a move that could help increase home ownership rates among minorities and low-income consumers, the Fannie Mae Corporation is easing the credit requirements on loans that it will purchase from banks and other lenders….Fannie Mae, the nation’s biggest underwriter of home mortgages, has been under increasing pressure from the Clinton Administration to expand mortgage loans among low and moderate income people and felt pressure from stock holders to maintain its phenomenal growth in profits.

The source:  New York Times.  The year:  1999

Read the complete article here:   Fannie Mae Eases Credit to Aid Mortgage Lending

"Something went wrong with my daddy’s brain"

It’s writers workshop week at the MK school and the kids were given notebooks to write about their life and experiences.  As I read through my second grader’s first entry, I gasped, my heart skipping a beat with a painful memory, while tears pooled in my eyes:

 

“One day my family went to the mall in Chauhua [sic] and my dad was looking for new glasses for my brother Michael and some thing went wrong with my daddy’s brain.  And when I saw it happen I brist [sic] into tears.  And then I saw a lot of lot of lot of blood on the floor…”

 

It was an epileptic seizure – tonic clonic (formerly called gran mal). Unannounced, completely unexpected, and most certainly unwelcome. Not to mention undeniably ugly.

It changed our life.  It was a push off a cliff and we would free fall for some time afterward.  It wasn’t just the seizure, but the consequent decisions we had to make coupled with negative circumstances out of our control.

Although some of her facts are amiss (i.e. location), the impact of that day has stayed with us.  Each one of our kids has their own story to tell.  And so do I.  I’ve put off writing the experience for almost three years and decided, after reading her entry, that it’s time I do so. 

Why?

To continue healing.   To let others know that missionaries also face crisis of faith.  To share the struggle.  To show our humanness and expose emptiness we experience in the valley.  And to remind myself of God’s goodness even when it’s not seen or felt.

And also to match my daughters brave vulnerability.

It will be posted it in the near future.

God, Simply Put

God, Simply Put

 

A mystery of light and life,

He the groom I the wife.

 

A mighty wind removing chaff,

A shepherd gentle with His staff.

 

Rock, fortress, feathers or wings,

His protection is so many things.

 

Counselor, teacher, guide, a friend

My all in all He has no end.

 

-ih-

What’s red, long stemmed and rhymes with noses?

Ya’ll are too smart for me.

Driving home from church yesterday, we passed a street vendor selling flowers and unique floral arrangements.  I handed 50 pesos (5 US dollars) to my son and told him to hop out and pick something nice for the house.  That prompted a protest from my hubby, “No way.  If anyone is going to buy you flowers, it’s going to be me“.  (So I’m thinking my discreet manipulation worked, eh?). 

But instead of stopping to buy from that vendor, he knew of another one a few blocks away.  (Impressive- he’s been checking out floral hotspots).  We arrive, he jumps out, we wait, and he finally returns a few moments later.  A dozen long stem red roses are in his arms and he opens my door, gives me a kiss, and hands them to me. 

 

Then he gives me 10 pesos change. Forty pesos!  That is how much the roses cost!  I can get used to this.  Viva Mexico.

With prices that good, I better invest in a vase.  They do, however, still look lovely in the plastic juice pitcher I temporarily put them in.

Hot Tamale!

We ate tamales yesterday wrapped in banana leaves from our own back yard and mmm-mmm were they good.

A tamale is corn meal dough prepared with a filling inside, wrapped in either corn or banana leaves, tied like a cute little package, then cooked over steam.

 

 

 

We bought the corn meal dough, still warm, from a lady here in Huayapam  on Friday morning.  First we prepared the chicken with sauce for the filling.

 

 

Then we cut, washed, and dried the banana leaves into which we placed some of that corn masa and filling. To finish we folded a leaf around each tamale and tied it shut before cooking  in a baño Maria- for me a colander hanging over a pot of boiling water and fitted with foil as a lid to keep in the steam.  Afterward I let them cool before placing them in the fridge for Sunday’s lunch.

They were easily heated in the microwave and enjoyed after church.

Don’t Deceive Me

“Please buy my bowls” a feeble voiced called out.  I turned and saw her leaning against the stone wall of the old church as we made our way towards the zocalo, the center of town.  I felt compassion for this short, old, wrinkled woman.  But apparently not enough to stop  and buy anything.  After all, beggars and poor vendors are everywhere; how can one possibly buy or give money to each one?

Something about her, however, hit my daughter.  “Mom, we should buy something from her“.  “We’ll see“, I replied, “maybe on the way back“. 

Thanks to my daughter’s memory and insistence, we stopped on our way back and bought a few bowls. 

We realized, as we were picking them up to decide which ones to buy, that this woman was nearly blind!  She couldn’t tell the sizes of the bowls we looked over- which was a problem since they were priced accordingly.   She also seemed to lack that vendor confidence and forthrightness typical of the others.

We made our decision and paid her, explaining which ones we picked and reiterating the prices she had quoted.  After putting the money in her hand, she looked down in an attempt to see and then turned back to us and said, “Don’t deceive me“.

Shock and sadness ripped through me at that moment.  If only she knew we would never do such a thing to her!  If only she knew that the very thought of deceiving her brought  pain to our hearts. If only she knew we stopped to help her and not hurt her. 

Even after assuring her, reviewing what we bought and how much we gave her,  she still replied “Don’t deceive me“.

How many times has she been cheated?  How many have deceived her in the past?

I can’t help but think of the thousands, no millions, that have been cheated, deceived to be accurate, in matters of life, and of the eternal options for their soul. Deceived in matters of truth. How many false prophets have passed by?  How many false religions?  How many claiming to be light who are leading many toward darkness and death? How many lies?  What multitudes have died to suddenly find themselves in the reality of life after death, unprepared to stand before their Maker?

Evil men and imposters will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.”    II Tim 3:13

Have you been deceived?  Are you the one deceiving? How’s your eyesight?  What is it that you are calling out for…and to whom?

There is only one solution, only one antidote for the deceptions of life:  the Bible.  It is ultimate truth, breathed from the very mouth of God.  Learn it!  Know it!  Become convinced of it!  Don’t stand there feebly calling out for politicians, neighbors, education or various religions to help you.  Reach out for God’s Word and to the One who became that Word in flesh: Jesus Christ. 

The Scriptures…will make you wise for salvation by faith in Jesus Christ… and will teach you, rebuke you, correct you, and train you in doing what’s right, so you will be made perfect for every good work.”   II Tim 3:15-17

Old Fashioned Internet?

We have internet at the house.  Yippee!  But it’s dial up and my laptop won’t connect at more than 28.8.  *sigh* The other day my daughter was sitting next to me and listened as I signed on.  She was fascinated by the connecting sounds of phhhhzzz-ting ting-doodle-deedle- poing POING and asked, “Is that old fashioned internet?”

An oxymoronical question like that is indeed telling of the speed of today’s technology.

Another missionary who left the field offered to give us their satellite, but the cost to have internet set up through that is astronomical.  Neither cable nor high speed internet has yet arrived to our pueblo.  When we called, we were told, “in a few months we’ll offer service there“.  Translation:  maybe in a year or two or three we’ll get up to your area.

I have wanted to respond to all the comments that have been left on my various posts, as well as follow many of your blogs that I enjoy, but I don’t have the time to do that on the slow connection and I simply have not had the opportunity to go into town by myself and hang out at a wi-fi cafe for a few hours to do so.  This dilemma has also hindered my online course and I now find myself behind in three lessons.

I’ve been using Windows Live Writer to write our blogs offline.  When they won’t publish through our dial up, I then wait until we happen to be close to a coffee shop in town that offers wireless and then I have but a few minutes to enjoy a cuppa Joe with my honey and quickly send mail and my posts and receive messages. 

Ah, but this is all part of new millenium transition.  A hundred years ago, I’d still be on a mule or a train, or I’d be hauling water up from the river to bathe, or I’d be sending you these messages by pigeon. 

Old fashioned internet?  Just a matter of perspective.

Oaxaca Celebrates my Birthday?

Not exactly, but  today is both my birthday and the grand finale of the Guelaguetza, Oaxaca’s biggest festival.  This past week people from all over the state of Oaxaca, the country of Mexico, and even from various parts of the world have come for this year’s Guelaguetza.  This is a cultural dance festival, highlighting the dances from each region of the state.

I had looked forward to this, hoping we could attend.  Then I found out it’s held, not in the zocalo (public square) as I had thought, but rather in it’s own auditorium and tickets are 400 pesos ($40) a head.  I resigned to wait until next year.

However, on Saturday, someone told us that Huayapam will be having it’s own Guelaguetza on Sunday.  I was thrilled!  Our little town having the dances right here! 

  You bet we went.  Even though it was a mini version of the real thing, I loved it!  Instead of having original dancers, these were locals representing the regions with appropriate traditional dress performing the unique regional dances. (And, yes! that included the Mexican hat dance).

The entire town square was alive with food vendors, drink vendors, balloons, cotton candy, etc ad fiestum.  The best part was at the end of each performance, they would throw things out to the audience that represented their region.  Some threw out candy, some bolillos (rolls), and some small fruit.  Then it became even more interesting and at times dangerous as heads of lettuce, bunches of cilantro and radishes, and even apples and coconuts (!!!) were thrown into the audience.  At one point, as I was taking a photo, I got bopped in the head with a bag of totopos (nachos).  Not painful, but my kids especially found that humorous. Ha ha.

I don’t know what my family has in store for me today, but I already had a nice treat yesterday with Guelaguetza Hauyapam 2008! Enjoy the photos:

Either called or crazy

(written Saturday, July 19.   Who knows when I’ll get to an internet place to get it posted)

Although at the point of exhaustion, my hubby made it back safely and after a week living in a downtown Oaxaca hotel for the rest of us, we are in our house. Naturally, half the furniture didn’t arrive as they said on Friday, so we bought colchonetas, these things that look like sleeping bags stuffed with filling, and slept on those.  I forgot to buy a comforter for ourselves, and it was pretty chilly since we are about 1600 meters above sea level and tile floors can get cold! I figured a nice hot shower would fix that but why was I expecting so much?  Little more than a cold drizzle fell from that thing.  Not even enough to rinse the soap off me. 

We haven’t quite unpacked yet since we still have no storage space.  We have to go back into town today and look for wardrobes and dressers as well as some kind of shelving for the pantry and for the kitchen.  Add to that, a stove. Adios, budget.  I was hoping that the archaic one here would suffice for the time being.  Since it was disgustingly dirty, sticky, and stained, we took it apart and cleaned it.  However, after turning it on, using it once for breakfast on Saturday, the gas just kept leaking out.  It was a good thing we left for a few hours (yeah, more shopping) because when we walked in that’s when the smell hit us. 

It may take up to a week to have a new one delivered, so I’m without a way to cook till then.  Even the microwave I bought is useless for the time being since there are no three prong nor polarized outlets in this house and the adapters we bought don’t fit. 

Now I remember why I dislike moving! So many minor frustrations piling on top of the normal stress of cross-cultural transition.  Are we crazy or called?

Crazy would make me want to shout, “I’ve had it – I’m oughtta here!”  Especially when I wake up to use the bathroom and there scurrying about is a tiny scorpion.  Or when I’m cleaning out the utility area and find several black widow webs, or nests or whatever they’re called.  Or walking around back on the beautiful patio are mounds of fire ant hills.  Or when the swarm of bees flew too close for comfort over our heads the other day.  Or when we all take turns suffering from Montezuma’s revenge, or when hubby is up all night vomiting and then I worry if he’ll be able to take his anti-seizure meds on an empty stomach.

But here is where I’m reminded that we’re called to do this. It’s the only way for grace to take over. It’s the only way to justify the craziness of such transition. It’s the only way to overcome the obstacles, the frustrations, the feelings of strangeness in a new setting, the loneliness, the tiredness, the lack of basic comforts, the financial stress that accompanies such transitions.

We’re not crazy, we’re called. It’ll work out. The upside of things is soon to come. Just to get through a few more weeks. Just to purchase the necessary things, Just to see how God miraculously provides.  Just to rest for a few days. Just to get the kids settled in school.

We can only do these things through Christ who strengthens us as we trust that our labor has not, is not, will not be in vain.

Casa linda…

Kitchen:

I do have a pantry off the one wall not shown.  I will still need to find creative shelfing/storage for things needed within reach, as well as more counter space.  (I’m too American.  It’ll take awhile for some of that to shed as I grow some Mexican mindset into this).

Gotta run…my time here at the internet cafe ya se acaba (is running out)!

We´re here…

We had a good flight on Friday and later that afternoon went to see the house we´re renting.  We are still staying in a hotel though since the house is empty.  I went briefly to look at furniture on Saturday, but it´s a bit overwhelming since there is so much to buy and I want to shop around for lowest prices. 

Not only do I need large appliances like fridge, washing machine, and stove, but also furniture of all kinds including storage for everything- and I mean everything!  The kitchen has NO cupboards or drawers of any kind.  It simply has a small counter with a sink (and an old dirty sticky stove that I´m not sure is fit to use), which means I will also have to shop around for creative ways to store all my kitchen stuff.

The bedrooms have no closets, so besides beds and dressers, we also have to buy wardrobes to hang clothes in.  I have a feeling we´ll be living out of suitcases for a while!  The house only had a few lightbulbs hanging, so I´m going to have to buy light fixtures so we can see our way around.

But before all that, it needs a good cleaning.  It has sat empty for a while and the critters need to be cleaned out, both the dead and the live ones!  Even with all these hurdles to get past before this place can be called home, I really like the house and the setting.  The house is in a VERY Mexican pueblo on the outskirts of Oaxaca City, is a bright golden yellow with terra cotta tiled roof, has fruit trees- like banana, lemon, and some type of berry- on the property, several porches on the front, side, and back of the house, and lots of pots waiting to have flowers and small plants growing in them.

PLEASE CONTINUE PRAYING:  My hubby will be leaving early Mon morning with one of my boys to make another 1,600 mile round trip to the border to retrieve the second load of stuff.  Some of you may not know that he suffers from a seizure disorder (epilepsy) and there is still a travel alert issued by the US gov´t to avoid travel on the US/Mexican border.  BUT GOD IS GOOD AND HAS KEPT HIM THUS FAR!  I believe in the power of prayer and trust the Lord to continue strengthening Mike and protecting their travel.  Thanks for agreeing in prayer with me.  They will return to Oaxaca on Thursday evening.