I was lost in the Mountains...to see God

Sunday morning I returned to the Hispanic church in the log cabin, that I had stumbled upon when I was lost the night before**.  I was welcomed warmly by my new friends, Pastor Felipe and his wife Francis.  They introduced me to the others in the church of which on the front row was their newly ordained Deacon, Walter from El Salvador and his friend Raul.  Before services began, Pastor Felipe told a little about who I was and mentioned that I needed to interview some people not born in the U.S. for my training assignment.  Raul leaned over and told me that he spoke a little English and volunteered to talk to me.  We visited a little before church in mixed English and Spanish (what little I know).  Raul was born in El Salvador but because of his expertise in the auto industry, came to the United States in 1969 to work.  He and his wife live in Maryland, but also have a place in North Carolina that he was currently staying at for a while.  They raised their children in the states and Raul loves being a grandpa.  That’s about as far as we got before church started and decided to continue our conversation after church.

The El Salvadoran and Mexican voices mixed in harmony as they worshiped together.  Not quite the same as Hondurans, but I still felt like I was home.  There was a family of 15 visiting Sunday, so there were several children.  When Felipe asked if I wanted to help Francis, I jumped at the chance to be a part of children’s ministry.   We walked with the children down the path that led to a small plant room off of their cabin that was children’s church.  Francis taught the lesson in Spanish and the children absorbed every word she said.  When we returned the children to church, they sang ‘This little light of mine’ in English and Spanish. 

After church, Raul and I resumed our conversation, as he continued to tell me about his life and family.  Everyone else had been visiting and talking, but suddenly they all left the cabin and shut the door just as I asked Raul the question ‘so when did you become a Christian’?  He looked at me as if he didn’t understand, so in Spanish I asked ‘when did you accept Christ in your heart’?  He simply said ‘I have not’.  My mind was spinning.  I thought the men on the front row were the regular attenders, but how could I have just assumed Raul was a Christian?  Then my heart started racing as I realized Raul was why I was here.  He was why I got lost and as I prayed for God to show me where to go, found the little church sign in the middle of nowhere. 

 I closed my notebook and moved it behind me and told Raul that we were no longer having an interview.  I needed to speak to him heart to heart.  I asked him why he was there to which he explained that he came with Walter to find out more about being a Christian.  He had a Catholic background and really didn’t understand everything, so just was checking things out.  We talked for a long time as I answered his questions in a childlike version of the Gospel.  I could tell God was dealing with Raul, and then he asked me if I ever talk to God or hear Him speak.  I said most definitely!  I told him about me getting lost, talking to God in my car and then finding the church in the middle of nowhere.   I told him that I believed that God sent me there to talk to him.  Our conversation went on for a while and finally Raul said that he was an old man and had to think about all of this and needed to go for now.  I would have loved for him to have accepted Christ right there, but I trust that God is still working on Raul’s heart and in His timing, will draw him in His arms of love.

After Raul left, Pastor Felipe told me that he sensed that I was witnessing to Raul, so they were outside the door praying while I was talking to him. He thought that Raul was why I was there.   I stayed out under the shade tree a while holding a baby and visiting with the kids and actually got my final interview from a 10 year old boy, Celso, who moved to the U.S. from Mexico when he was 1 year old.  Then I had lunch with Pastor Felipe and Francis and learned more about their time as missionaries to Mexico and connected the dots of their life, ministry and the people that I had met that day.  When they moved back to this area, Francis turned down better job offers, to be a translator at the hospital.  This allows her to stay in touch with the migrant workers and others whom she speaks their heart language and gives her a great opportunity for ministry.  In translating, she had met the woman who brought the family of 15, with my little friend Celso.  Felipe had met Walter through a mutual friend that he served in a prison ministry with.  Walter a recently ordained deacon, had invited Raul whom I’m pretty sure will be talking and listening to God on his own pretty soon.  J

At the end of the day, yes, I got my interviews.  But more importantly, I was reminded of how God orchestrates so many lives and circumstances to bring us into the place we need to be…to see HIM. 

 

**This blog post is a continuation of "The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…"
http://cm-jeremiah29-11.blogspot.com/2012/06/assignment-that-had-me-whining-to-god.html?spref=fb

The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…

One of our cultural awareness assignments for this weekend was to find 3 people who had moved to the states from another country, have an in-depth conversation with them and write a reflection paper on what we found out.  I must admit, this is not one of my favorite assignments.  I’ve came a long way from the girl who had to have her older sister do all the talking for her, but not THAT far.  As my classmates went their separate ways for the weekend in search of their subjects, I was getting sick just thinking about it.  Finally, I made myself get in the car and travel to the nearest town where I had seen a Mexican Restaurant.  I never go inside a restaurant to eat alone, so this in itself was a challenge.  I finally get up the nerve to go in, ask for a booth and take my seat.  

My mind was racing to think of a conversation starter.   After a couple of visits from my waiter, I asked him in Spanish if he knew where a Spanish speaking church is in this area.  He smiled and asked how I knew Spanish and so I was able to proceed with finding out a little about him.  Each trip he made to my table, I would ask a little bit more.  I found out his name is Jose, from Vera Cruz Mexico.  He lived in Tennessee for four years before moving to North Carolina.  His family is still in Mexico and he misses them terribly as well as the friendly people of his home country.   He loves his job and the money that he makes here.

Now that is as far as I got, because apparently a single girl, dining alone, practicing her ‘listening skills’ and being too interested in the personal life of her waiter, can come across as hitting on him.  So I realized when he handed me a paper and asked for my address that the interview was over.

I left the restaurant feeling defeated, but then I remembered that I had the address of the Spanish speaking church Jose had given me.  Maybe I could meet someone there to interview.  If not, at least I could worship in Spanish tonight.  It started at 7pm, so I had just enough time to get there.  I put the address in my GPS and headed out.  After many twists and turns, the GPS said that I had reached my destination…the middle of an intersection.  There was no church in sight.  I went each direction looking for the church and found nothing. 

I headed back in the direction that I thought would get me back to the main road and somehow ended up heading out in the country.   I was whining to God about this assignment that I didn’t want to do, the fact that I didn’t even get to go to church and asking Him to help me find my way back.   I pulled over to turn around and head back the other way, when suddenly I saw a sign that said Baptist Church in Spanish.  It wasn’t the one I was looking for, but I thought I should check it out anyway.  As I started down the gravel road that quickly turned to a mountainous trail, I once again thought I was lost.  I had no choice but to keep going up the narrow, steep trail to find a place to turn around.  Then, in the middle of the woods, there was a log cabin with a church sign pointing to it.  There were no cars in sight.  As I began to turn around, a man came out to talk to me.  I explained I was lost and he proceeded to tell me about their Hispanic ministry they had started in the little log cabin behind their log cabin.  He introduced me to his wife and son and invited me inside. 

They were fascinating people, who were missionaries in Mexico for 15 years and now are serving here in the states.  As I sat in their living room for a few hours listening to their life stories, I felt blessed.  I chuckled inside thinking that I thought I was so afraid of speaking to a stranger, yet here I sat in the cabin of strangers, who suddenly felt like friends.  They’ve invited me back for church in the morning, and I'm looking forward to it.   

The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…ended up a blessing!  I can't help but think God knew where I was going all along.

Precious Souls

She stood in the middle of the dirt road with a heart melting smile and a baby on her hip.  Her shirt was too small and her bulging belly revealed another child was on the way.  She was happy to see me and asked if I could come and visit with her for a while.  I left my task at hand and went with her to find out what was going on in her life.  She let me take the child from her hip and as we walked and talked, her other little girl came running up to us talking fast and quickly grabbing my hand, saying I was her new friend.  Both children were barefoot and barely clothed and I offered to carry the second child as well.  She told me it was okay, they were used to it and their feet were tough.  We walked along the road and she told me that she remembered me telling her that God had not given up on her and neither had I.  She said she has been going to church near here and asking God what to do.  This country doesn’t give women like her many options, but she believes that God will help her.  She invited me to see where she lived so that I could find her, if I ever wanted to visit. 

 

As we walked along the rocky dirt road, I could smell the child I was carrying who obviously hadn’t bathed in a while.   I kept looking at the other little girl’s dirty bare feet walking on the rocky terrain.  Then she stopped and said, ‘there it is.  This is where I live’.   I tried not to look shocked as she motioned for me to follow her up the steep trail to the building that was her home-just a small block building with a concrete floor.  No doors, no windows, no electricity or plumbing.  She asked me to come in as she explained that she lived there with her cousins.  There was not any furniture, except for the bottom of a spring type frame.  No mattress, nothing soft to lie on…just springs.  There was lump in my throat and I was willing myself not to burst into tears.  We went back outside where she took a little dress off a tree limb and put it on the older girl as we sat on the ground to visit.  The little girl crawled up in my lap and the stench of her hair was overwhelming.  I looked around and noticed that there was not even a makeshift shower or bathroom outside. 

 

 

As we sat and visited, the little girl started chatting with me and then she looked up with big brown eyes and told me something in Spanish that I wish I hadn’t understood – ‘Tengo el hambre’ (I have hunger).   It seemed like an eternity, me looking in her eyes and begging God to tell me what to do.  You see this woman has been begging for years.  She knew what it was like to have a good, safe, protected life.  Then she made a mistake…and now has to suffer the consequences.  They say that she will never learn and she just keeps begging.  They say if you give her something today, she will be back tomorrow.  They say that she sells what people give her and still has nothing.  I say WOULDN’T YOU?  If you had no food and hungry children, wouldn’t you beg?  Wouldn’t you sell anything you could get your hands on to feed your children?  I say that God commands us to love anyway.  I know that there are hundreds more just like her out there and the problem is way bigger than I am, but I serve a God that is in control.  I know HE hasn’t given up on her…and neither will I.  

There are 83 children here at Faith Home and I am begging God for wisdom to make sure that we give them the best opportunities in life, that we keep them safe & protected, but most of all ... I am begging for their souls.   It’s their relationship with God that I want them to value most.  Through that relationship, HE will transform them and the world around them.

As I sit here typing, I can still smell the stench on my clothes of the children that I held.  I can close my eyes and imagine their little bodies curled up next to their mother on those springs or even the floor.  A few years ago, I prayed for God to break my heart for what breaks His…today He crumbled it to pieces.   

Honduran Life

O how I wished I had a camera today!  So many memories etched in my mind forever.  The first half of the day was filled with bookkeeping, then Hector said it was time to go pick up our trucks from the shop in San Pedro.  There was so much going on at Faith Home, we opted to ride a bus in so we could get them both at the same time.  Jose Ricardo joined us because we had to go visit a potential employer for him.  We walked the dirt road down to the highway and waited…and waited…and continued to wait.  I have no idea how long it was because Hector said don’t take anything that anyone would be tempted to steal.  Thus, I left my watch, my camera and my purse behind.  I just had my passport, driver’s license and a little cash in my secure pocket on my pants. 

When the bus finally arrived, we climbed on board where I immediately smiled and greeted the passengers who looked back at me like I was a foreigner…O wait – I am!  As we squeezed in between everyone, the heat and stench quickly made their presence known.  It was the longest, most uncomfortable bus ride ever.  No singing team-mates, no laughter or tears.  Just some Honduran upbeat music, a man selling something ‘fresco’ insistently, the door guy whistling nonstop to get more passengers and constant stops as we weaved in and out of every little community on the way to San Pedro.

As I absorbed the sights, sounds…and smells, I started thinking about how most Hondurans must travel this way every day.  Even our transition kids ride the bus to get to school and work.  It is their way of life.  One of the things I want to do is understand their culture, so this was a good start.  When Hector finally signaled that it was time to get off the bus, we squeezed through the people and out onto a street corner that was several blocks away from our trucks.  A man ushered us to his taxi and we whipped in and out of traffic until we arrived at our destination.  We had several stops to make, all of which seemed to take forever and nobody seemed to be in a hurry.  Finally, we arrived at Jose Ricardo’s potential job and visited with the nicest people.  I have no doubt that God orchestrated this opportunity through a special lady from Jose’s past.  He starts to work on Monday and now we just have to figure out living arrangements for him in San Pedro.  God is good!

The drive home consisted of me weaving in and out of traffic, trying to keep up with Hector and learning Spanish from Jose as I drove.  He didn’t seem to mind my crazy driving.  Apparently here, I fit right in.  When we finally arrived back at Faith Home, Jose thanked me for a good day and said good-bye.  Reflecting on this day, I wouldn’t trade the scenic bus ride, laid back people, crazy traffic or the conversation with Jose for anything.  Thank you Lord for a good day!

TRAVELING LIGHT

I found a cool app on my phone the other day that counts down the days until a special event.  I put in the date of my anticipated departure for Honduras, which was cool.  As I played with the app, I also found where I could put my date of birth and it calculated how many days I had been alive…not so cool.  That’s a lot of days!  I began to think about how many of those days have been wasted.  I’m ashamed to say that the majority of them have been wasted on things that I thought were important or maybe even on nothing at all. 

I remember a day, several years ago, when I suddenly realized that I couldn’t change the world sitting on my couch.  Some days, I would come home from work, mentally exhausted and just zone out watching TV, eating supper and just sitting there until time for bed.  I’m a morning person, so I always wake up happy, energetic and ready to take on the world.  I have most of my moments of clarity with God in the mornings as I study His word, pray and let Him speak to my heart.  One morning as I told God, once again, that I wanted to be His hands, feet and heart to the world, He spoke to my heart about wasted time.  I started evaluating what I was really doing to reach others and how I was spending my time.  I determined that it was time to change things.  I refused to sit on my couch much and eventually stopped watching TV altogether.  I started getting out and visiting and meeting people and really started to see what reaching out meant.  It is more than just going to church and mission trips.  It is using every available moment to touch lives…and let them touch yours.

As I look at my empty house this morning, I was reminded of the couch moment.  I don’t mind that I have given everything away, because those are just ‘things’.  What I have is more valuable than anything I could own in this world – the Peace of God.  I want to share that peace with the world.  As I prepare for the journey to be a missionary in Honduras, I am traveling light.  I could fit everything I own in this borrowed car I am driving and I am perfectly content with that.  I am looking forward to the ministry in Honduras and watching God move through hearts and lives along the way.

I am thankful for the day that I realized I couldn’t change the world from my couch and the fact that now…I don’t even own a couch!

Patch Club and Gecko Poo

Tonight I shared my journey with with our 'Patch Club' children's ministry.  I tried to explain to them why I am leaving them and going to another country to serve where God is sending me.  I asked God this morning to help me leave some words with them that would be 'food for their journey'.  If I am not going to be here as they grow up, then I wanted to make sure that I still get to be an influence on them.  I talked about listening to God as they make their decisions for the future and how I had no idea as a child that this is what I would be doing now.   We talked about trusting God with their decisions and how He has a plan for their lives, as well as that of the children of Faith Home.  It got quite serious for a while as I fought back tears and assured them that I would find a way to 'skype' in and visit with them.

 

Finally, the mood lightened as the children asked questions and I tried to help them understand what it was like in Honduras.  I told about the scenery and the weather and then I talked about the geckos and the little 'presents' they often leave for us.  Miss Marcella had prepared cookies with chocolate sprinkles on them - which looked like gecko poo, so yeah, I used the comparison....the kids loved it!  What a memory for them...and for me. 

EXPECTING MIRACLES

Last night as we discussed the things we had seen, Pete mentioned a man in a wheelchair that was in bad shape. The man had tied a lawn chair seat to replace the missing seat. Scott said that it just happened that the the container that had arrived last week had a wheelchair on it. GOD's timing is perfect.

Today in eye glasses it seems that God wanted to remind us that He doesn't stop with one miracle. I think we fit more glasses through prayer than through our high-tech equipment. From multiple cataract cases to another small child with crossed eyes, we were amazed at GOD's provision for our patients.

My favorite was an older lady who had extreme cataracts. We took turns trying desperately to get a reading before accepting that it wouldn't happen. We prayed and went to the box of glasses not in our inventory, where we found an older style of glasses that had been in the box for the past several trips. We had no idea what the prescription was, but they looked like they would be perfect on the lady.

As I put them on her face, she said praise God she could see the people out in the field and thanked us. I told her that God had provided the glasses for her and she looked beautiful in them. Her precious smile reminded me once again to never stop EXPECTING MIRACLES.