28 July 2017
In the middle of the night, I could see the next leg would depart on time.
Another pre-dawn check showed her over the Atlantic.
At breakfast, the little jet icon crossed my telephone screen into Canada.
By lunch, she reported in, through customs and live from Dallas.
And before dinnertime, the small silver plane landed on the hot blacktop of the place we call home and we waited for her to emerge from the gate.
Today, we were the Airport Reunion scene and others watched us and smiled.
Welcome home to our missionary servant traveler. We missed you, Sarahbear.
"I don't think it will last long."
"It's almost through, right?"
"It can't be THAT much longer."
"WHAT?! It's STOPPING?"
Yes. Stopped. Completely halted.
At that moment, "We might be late," turned to "Dang. We're late."
And we were.
But all in all, the raspa was worth it.
26 July 2017
Hatch Green Chile Egg Potato Sausage breakfast taco,
Morning shared in Reynosa with the best company, the best,
Bridge line confessions,
Bookstore escape with only one title,
Spinach Mushroom Piadina,
New library card (which deserves it's own post. The friendliest customer service, bright light crisp, a new book to go, and MORE OVERDRIVE!! Yes, this is true- not the dream where I wake up and owe money...),
Making her new purchase fit in the back,
Large unsweet tea with lemon,
11 hours uninterrupted,
Home again, home again,
Back down the road,
New shower curtain and bath mat,
Steak with my favorite electrician,
Home again, home again.
Finish heart happy and deeply content.
22 July 2017
For this is one of the miracles of love; it gives... a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.
To see, in some measure, like God. His love and His knowledge are not distinct from one another, nor from Him. We could almost say He sees because He loves, and therefore loves although He sees.
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
19 July 2017
For three hours, the place was teeming with kids- sweet, naughty, active, wide-eyed, ever-thinking, "what comes next?", thirsty, neighborhood kids. It was all the chaos that you might imagine, and maybe then some more. They waved their arms and spun circles in dance. They ran and kicked and the littles played Pato, Pato, Ganso. They sweat. We sweat. They listened to the parable about the Pearl of Greatest Price. Well, sort of they listened...
They mixed granola and butter and honey and toasted it all up. They added the hidden treasure of M&M's and craisins and filled bags with trail mix. Little kids were separated from their groups and returned to their groups and middle boys wanted a different group and the big boys were too cool for their group today. Was it the sugar? Maybe no M&M's and craisins tomorrow...
But in one place, everyone sat and hardly even spoke. Unlike anywhere else in the building, calm permeated the room- the Art Room. Almost without exception, the kids storm into the Art Room, and then settle. Today they painted treasure boxes, and plain wood was transformed with rainbow bright hues. Little boys stuck out their tongues in Michael Jordan-like concentration. The helpers refilled paper plate palettes with color. They praised the efforts of the artists and thanked them when they finished, almost oblivious to the pandemonium below. Art. We are keeping art.
And prayer. We are keeping prayer. Because in all the smiles and in the tears today, we recognize as much as ever that we are not enough. Yet, even in the chaos, we see Jesus here. So we pray, Lord, give us all ears to hear and eyes to see and a mind to understand, just as you hear and see and understand us. Help us to know your still, quiet peace in the midst of the all the wild activity around us. Enlarge our hearts to love just as you love us.
18 July 2017
The house itself, it's not much to speak of, really. The front door opens to the entryway living room. A few steps more and you pass a bathroom that's being restored and continue to a corner bedroom. The kitchen is, um, unique. The walls display no less than four styles of tile. The counter tops are granite, yes, but they came together through pieces and parts leftover from other jobs. The original wiring allowed one plug in each room, but our make-it-happen electrician friend is installing more boxes. (Can I mention how grateful I am to have an electrician friend? And friends who tile bathrooms? And who paint walls? And who paint fences? And who clean up yards? And who donate furniture? And who pray?)
Then there's the little structure at the back of the property. We know that the owner has used the brick ovens to roast pig. There's an abandoned band saw in the corner. All manner of trash has been removed. Surely bugs and rodents must hide in the crevices, yet undetected.As grubby and dark as the picture shows, cobwebs knit into dusty cobwebs. Yet, the window set into the top of the wall allows streams of sunlight to expose this place. It is a work in progress, but slowly the glow of light filters out the darkness.
17 July 2017
16 July 2017
15 July 2017
I looked up and the pink-peach-coral glow called me and up and out and a photo does not do justice to the glory of it all. For a few minutes, we could forget the humid dusty heat of the day to yet to come, forget the hard stories that would bring us to tears, forget the cacophony of the noise of life in this place, and just put our eyes on Him who created all things.
And it was good.
12 July 2017
Now, although we feel bad that this dog is mangy and underfed and looks at us with incredibly pathetic eyes, still, Todd's a dog. And when he finally wanders away down the street, I didn't stew over it very long.
But, in the last few days, I've seen people and heard stories that I will remember much, much longer. I've seen sick and sad little kids- a tot with impetigo, and a few broken collarbones that are healing, and sores that are not. I've met young teen girls that have experienced more in their short lives then any adult should ever know. A woman stepped on the scale and weighed 80 pounds and turned her eyes down in shame. I have double checked blood pressure readings and blood sugar levels because they just seemed much too high to be correct, though they were. I checked in a man who had tattoos on his entire body, no kidding- every piece of skin I could see, face included. We wonder about relationships that seem questionable at best.
I listened to a pretty long story about a man's job history and on the job injury and problems with the national health system and current unemployment and homelessness, in Spanish. Then he told me that he had retired from an auto plant in the States, in Spanish. "Why am I speaking to you in Spanish?," I asked him, in English. "I don't know," he answered, in perfect English. We both smiled big and then laughed out loud. I listened to an older woman who has lived in the area for more years than she remembers, most of those years working in the Zona Tolerancia down the street. But now, she told me with a content smile while holding my hand like the grandma she is, she is old and single and she's quite content to be married to Jesus. Oh yes, even among the hard, there has been plenty of sweet, babies and elderly ladies that are adorable, doctors who share good news, hearts that have been softened and soothed in counsel and prayer.
But Todd? Well, our hands are pretty full. Maybe Todd can find another place to hang out.
This time, Ryan really made it happen.
You think potholes are bad where you live? Sure, they probably are, for a season. But those of you living in the States, if you complain, the city will mostly likely send a crew out to fix them and then you forget that they ever were. That doesn't happen here. Potholes, or rather- avoiding potholes, become part of the daily obstacle course of life. Another teammate (and lest we be accused of cultural insensitivity- he's Mexican), tired of the jarring hits on his car, decided we could start filling the potholes in the neighborhood. And last summer, that's what we did. With the help of crews from our short-term summer teams, we hit the streets and mixed up concrete and starting filling holes.
Then sometime in the winter, we saw the video. It showed examples of folks in other places topping off pothole repairs with mosaic art. That was a natural for this place.
We started making art with our neighborhood kids a year ago. In that time they have created drawings and paintings and self-portraits and collages of all sorts. This time, we are taking their art to the street; really, laying the art into the street and capping off the pothole repairs with the mosaic tiles. Over the course of this summer, we have laid down tiles with Esperanza and Gozo and Amor, literally bringing hope and joy and love into our neighborhood roads. Our kids and volunteers have designed flowers and ice cream cones and animals and abstract colorful designs. We are patching our streets with beauty.
Street art doesn't last. It's temporal. Cars drive over our art and the tiles crack and will eventually disintegrate. And maybe, then, we'll do it again all over again. But no matter, the message we keep is from Him who is eternal, the Creator of all things who made us in His image to create. We can tell our kids that He too is making all things new and that our Jesus, he does not disappoint. And whether in the street or anywhere else, that is the most beautiful message of all.
11 July 2017
We are broken people who met broken people today- physically hurting yes, and spiritually fractured too, and that is humbling. At the end of the day, we know that there is so much more left to do . And even so, at the end of the day, we know our Jesus and know He is enough.
early quiet if not for the chatter of waking birds,
eggs and beans,
worship and "Dios te bendiga" and kisses on the cheek,
pollo asado and rice and banana pudding,
avoiding potholes and keeping the distance right and a drive past fields and bones and young people as the dj,
lazy look shopping and "gracias, no" and small buys,
Topo Chico with lime and topos and Spanish peanuts and lounge music and random sports on tv while sitting with friends in a smoky bar,
BLT in the kitchen,
an exchange of text and "not restful but rested."
09 July 2017
08 July 2017
If only I didn't keep the smell of chemicals after the display...
Never take for granted the friends who zealously stuff the back of the Normandy full of grass and paper to get the box to light, and who risk life and limb to rip open hot cardboard to find the hidden fuse.
Never take for granted the friends who cheer when the spark finally flies and who whoop when the mini tank rolls off the deck and onto the asphalt.
Never take for granted the friends who use up a full pack of matches to light the Flying Pig because you were too cheap to buy a punk.
Never take for granted the friends who yelp as loud as you do when the Ladybug screams into the air and at the same time, are thinking how to put out a potential grass fire when it lands on the opposite side of the canal.
Never take for granted the friends who laugh with you and love you well.
Those friends, they are golden.
05 July 2017
But me, my favorite? The Fire Engine. Have you seen it? It's just a little box, a red cardboard rendition on tiny black plastic wheels. But the entertainment value of this little guy? Super high! You first light fuse at the back and the truck propels forward with a stream of red flame sizzling out the back. Next the headlights light up bright, complete with sparks; then the top siren neon lights fire up. And finally, best of all, the ladder on the top pops up!
Last year, I bought fireworks, but then we never used them. We really aren't supposed to light up inside the city limits where I live. We got home late after the party last year and deemed my quiet cul-de-sac much too still for pyrotechnics. My birthday was the next likely date, but something happened and the displays never were set. So they waited patiently in a plastic bag on top of the freezer, pink sticks peeking out in ready anticipation. This Independence Day, I used up my last Fire Engine, and immediately, I wished I could watch in delight one more time. So I quickly scooted over to the nearby stand to get another before the clock struck midnight. Alas, "We didn't get that one this year." No Fire Truck for sale?!
You are missing out, Black Cat.
04 July 2017
03 July 2017
Tables full of young to old, sharing stories and telling tales.
I dare to dream that eternity will be something akin to this, sitting around with my favorite saints, with nowhere else we need to be.
And maybe a mug of coffee in hand, besides.
"I need to be broken apart and put back into a different shape by that merging of things human and divine, which is really screwing up and receiving grace and love and forgiveness rather than receiving what I really deserve. I need the very thing that I will do everything I can to avoid needing.
The sting of grace is not unlike the sting of being loved well, because when we are loved well, it is inextricably linked to all the times we have not been loved well, all the times we ourselves have not loved others well, and all the things we've done or not done that feel like evidence against our unworthiness. Love and grace are such deceivingly soft words- but they both sting like hell and then go and change the shape of our hearts and make us into something that we couldn't create ourselves to be."
- Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber