Handstand

Sometimes I feel like this. A little upside down or all turned around. Makes life all the more interesting!

Did you ever?

I have always wished that I could be five again. Seriously. Ever have those moments where you just step back and realize that you will never.ever.never be a kid again? Please do not misunderstand, I love my life. I would not trade it for anything, because, well, this is where God has put me. But still, whenever I think that I will never think like a child again, or have the same carefreeness of a child, I get a little sad. I mean, no more good excuses to climb a tree or jump off a wall....but why do you need an excuse to do those things? Just LIVE!
Ok. Now to get back on track.....I am living like a kid again! But not in the ways I was hoping. You see, people in this country that we call Mexico speak a language called Spanish. And where I come from, the people speak English. I have been learning a lot. And I do mean a lot. Even I am impressed with my ability to communicate this much in under three months. But I sound like I am four. I know I do. And it drives me crazy. Especially when I am treated like I am four just because I sound like I am four. Oh and if you think that is funny, you should have heard me read part of Judges 11 out loud yesterday. Talk about sounding out words and everything again! Oh me oh my!
BUT I am using this whole thing to my advantage. People tend to be more sympathetic when you sound like a four-year-old. For example, when we went door-to-door last Saturday, I said a couple of things then said that my friend want to share more. I think it opened doors (literally!) that might not have been opened otherwise. And isn't that just like the Lord? To take the things that I am ashamed of (my Spanish) and use it to win people to Himself?

Here is a picture of the girl, Andrea, who was in the hospital that I talked about in this post. With who I think is a brother. Families work differently in the mountains and in Mexico in general than in the States. You grow up with your cousins being your best friends and your aunts and uncles are second parents.
Anyways, I have been back to that home a few times since I wrote the last post about them. This girl made it home at the end of last week. From what I understood her biggest concern right now is a fracture in her forehead. Her family had told her that her younger sister (Gloria) had gone to another state for a few days. Eventually it was one of the missionary guys, with the blessing of the family, who told her that her sister had passed away. Andrea knows where her sister is and Andrea is so very happy. Seriously. Very happy. When I saw her yesterday, she was running while hopping on one leg because of an injury. Yes, RUNNING. Oh to have such happiness in the Lord and His promises!

Talking with friends....

....such a lovely pastime.

Good Times

My senior year of highschool. Three and a half years ago.

Gloria

On Wednesday we went to a home in the mountains that I had only been to once or twice before. When we pulled up in front of their home, we had to maneuver around barricades that had been placed in the road. In the middle of the barricade there were piles of flowers and two white candles. Two lives. Forever changed. There were crowds of people. All speaking in a tongue in which I only understand a few phrases. Nahualt. The language of the native people. Everyone held flowers. Women where wailing. Dozens of candles were burning in the dimly lit room. Grown men stood silently with tears flowing down their faces. The air was stiff and there was the heavy scent of incense. The children clung to their mother's as though their lives depended on it....and the mothers held on even tighter. In the middle of it all there was a white box. Smaller than four feet long and only a couple feet wide. A casket. A casket holding what used to be the body of a perfectly healthy newly turned four-year-old girl. Gloria.
Two days before she had been playing outside her house with her six-year-old sister Andrea when a truck lost control and hitting them both. And in an instance that little life was no more.
In the house we sang songs of worship to our God. The wailing fell to soft snobs. One of my Christian brothers began to share in Spanish from the Bible about what Jesus thought of children. Another brother translated in Nahualt. The men told the women to stop there chatter and listen to the Word of God. They listened intently. I began to see peace on the faces of the children. This was a message that they had heard many times before. But because of timidness or something else, their parents had never stopped to listen. This was a new message for them...a message of hope.
A little while later we crowded into trucks to make the drive up a mountain. We were above the clouds and there were colorful crosses dotting the rolling hills. The wailing was back in full force. Children wept openly for their sister. They threw flowers into a whole in the ground on top of her tiny casket. We sang. My brother shared again. This time about Kind David and he had in the Lord when he lost a child. The phrase that was repeated often was, "Gloria esta en gloria con Dios!" Meaning, "Gloria (the girl's name) is in glory with God. And then we sang again. We sang through the tears. We sang as they mourned. We sang as the embraced each other. We sang as they closed up the grave and covered it with cement. We finished off by singing what had been some of Gloria's favorite childrens' songs.
Yesterday we went back to the family's home. The two candles where still burning in the middle of the road, but this time I occasionally heard laughter in that home. In this area, there is only one adult who claims Jesus Christ as his Savior. The people are very grounded in their traditional beliefs. Only the children have been interested in learning about the true God. But last night, the people just kept coming. One brother shared from the Word of God, we prayed, and we SANG. For a long time. Again we ended with songs that had been loved by Gloria. We sang on song, complete with motions and everything, that I had never fully understood before. But last night I understood all of it. And I wept. It goes something like this: "I will worship God with my heart and with my voice. And if I lose my voice, then I will worship Him with my hands. And if I lose my hands, I will worship Him with my feet. And if I lose my feet, I will worship Him with my soul. And if I lose my soul, it is because I have gone to be with Him." Yes. That was one of Gloria's favorite songs. And the story of her so very dear short life.

Pyramids!

When a group of Americans came down for the week, I was one of the people who went to Mexico City to pick them up. On the way back we stopped at some PYRAMIDS! I enjoyed being a tourist here in this country for a little while. This pyramid is the third largest in the world. I would have to go to Egypt to see bigger.

A Journal...

I brought my journal from this summer here to Mexico with me. Not exactly sure why, but the Lord worked dramatically in my life in those few short months and I want to remember.
I was reading in that journal this morning. And what I read about what the Lord had done in my life challenged me. I am not sure if the statement is originally with me or if I just wrote what someone said.

"Am I seeking God's hand or His face?"

Basically, am I looking for God's stamp of approval on what I want to do? Simply an "ok"? Or am I seeking Him? Do I want to know Him?

I do believe it is a question worthy of ponder. And eventually a truthful answer.