Mexico Pictures

I can’t put all the pictures on, but here are a few.  They are of the kids and people we fed at the dump.  The big pile of dirt is the dump.  These pictures just show a fraction of it’s size.  This is the pile that used to be an open pile of garbage where the people lived.

 

Mexico, June 28

We are finally on the last leg of our trip home.  Honestly, I am ready to be back.  I love Mexico, and don’t mind being there.  But I’ve had enough of being a tourist.  If I go back to Mexico again, I want to go as “native” as possible, even with my northern white skin.

Even though I’ve done missions work in Mexico before, this trip was different for me.  Maybe it’s that I’m older, or the work was different.  Maybe it is being a mom now, and seeing these kids who had nothing to eat and wore dirty clothes.  Either way, there are a few heart memories and lessons that I will take away from this trip. 

I loved the time I had with the girls making bracelets.  The smiles on their faces as they made something for themselves were just priceless.  I loved helping them make something so simple yet beautiful, and I cherish the memory of them calling me “teacher.”  I am wearing the two bracelets right now that were given to me, one black and white and the other pink, purple, black and white.  I know these people have nothing compared to me.  But what they gave me with their love at that moment was worth more than I can ever say.

Kevin will also always be in my heart.  His eyes were so bright as we marched around the school pointing out things.  How he would try to form his mouth and lips in the proper English sound was so precious!  Kevin was so patient with me and my deficiencies in his own language, and was so eager to learn mine.  I know there is a drive inside of him, and I pray that he keeps that drive alive so that he can escape the life that is usually certain for many of these people.  That I was bold enough to seek this out, and confident enough in my words in two languages speaks volumes for the work that God has done in my heart.  I love that Kevin was sent into my path to show me the person that God has created me to be.

There are many other things I will carry in my heart and memories from this trip.  The one during worship with my son is so special to me.  I asked him later why he did that, he just said that he wanted to do what I was doing.  Oh, that I can continue to be such an example for him the rest of his life!  I’ll also remember the kids without clothes and shoes, coming up and getting bread.  The children racing behind the truck, slapping its sides, with huge smiles because they know they will get food.  And the women and men of the dump as they stood in line for their daily bread.

And Chabba Salvador.  I will never forget him.  His smile that first night in the dump told me that there was something special in his heart.  I didn’t care that his hands had just been digging through trash; I HAD to shake his hand.  After talking with him, I realized what was so special about him, and it is that realization that I will keep with me.  Chabba lives a life of trust and faith in his God for everything.  His daily bread is supplied by God, and he knows that.  He doesn’t question why this happens or why that happens.  He just believes. 

I hope that I can have and keep that attitude in life.  When problems come to my life, I want to remember Chabba.  I want to ask myself….is my situation any more impossible to solve than his?  Is mine any more or less important to my God?  I want to continue to have that faith, and that knowing that God is going to take care of me, no matter what the situation.  My God is a god of miracles, and he is a god of love.  I saw his love for Chabba, and I know he loves me just the same.    

Without Linda coming here 13 years ago, I’m not sure if I would have been here now, meeting with such as man as Chabba.  But God knows the future.  He knew that I and my family would eventually end up here, with the groundwork laid by Linda.  He knew what our situation would be like now, and how we would need a touch from him.  He knew that we needed an affirmation of his love and care in our lives.  They call it “The dream that never dies” here in Puerto Vallarta. 

It was the dream of just one person.

And that dream has touched my life.

 

Mexico, June 27

This morning was our last morning to get up lazily and have a nice breakfast.  We fly home bright and early tomorrow morning.  I’m actually ready to be home.  I have loved every minute that I’ve been here, whether it’s been in the pool with the kids or feeding the people around the dump.  I think that I could definitely live in Mexico, and do work like this church is doing for a while.  But since it was just a short trip, my mind is already at home where I live, wanting the routine, the comforts, and the normalcy of home life.  I look forward to when I can come here again.

My stomach was upset today, and felt like it was flushing stuff.  Not sure if that means the Crohn’s was acting up, but I don’t like it when it does this.  I had some D and stomach discomfort, and a general lack of appetite.  It will be good to be back home and eat food I know should be okay.  I have some Brasco Broth in the freezer, and some homemade yogurt already, so I think for a few days I’ll go back to intro foods on the SCD, just to reset my system.  I don’t think any permanent damage was done, so all in all, I’m relieved.

This morning we went to the local church, Perdon Y Amistad, that is running all of these programs.  It is the same church and the same pastor that Linda came to 13 years ago.  It was a good sized church, with probably 250 people in attendance or more at the second service.  The facilities are nothing spectacular, but I know a church is not the building but the people.  The sanctuary looks like a gym, and it’s very basic.  The people are so warm and inviting that it feels like home, even if we don’t look or speak the same.  We start off the morning with 45 minutes of worship, which was awesome!  I love to just sing and sing and sing praises with God’s people.  Even though I didn’t know most of the songs, the words were up on the screen so I could make it work.  It was an amazing time.  They had a man lead the first half, and then the ladies came up and did about 4 special songs.  Those girls can sing!  Towards the end, one of the girls sang Michael W. Smith’s “Above All.”  Even though I forgot some of the words, I still remembered the chorus.  “Crucified, laid behind the stone.  You lived to die, rejected and alone.  Like a rose, trampled on the ground…you took the fall, and thought of me….Above All.”  I was able to sing on the chorus, and just raised my hand in gratefulness for all that he has done for me.  My son was sitting on my lap at that moment, and so I sang in his ear.  Pretty soon, he gently took his hand and laid it on top of my upraised hand for the rest of the song.  We sat there together, worshiping, me singing the words gently into his ear and his heart.  It was a magical moment.

After worship Pastor Saul came up to speak.  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the man I saw standing up there fit exactly.  If you look at him you wouldn’t immediately think he is a pastor.  You might see him as a professor at a college or something.  He is a dignified looking man, I would guess in his 60’s, with gray hair and a gray beard.  He’s not tall, nor is he short.  When I saw him, I thought of Acts 4:13, which talks about the disciples of Jesus being just ordinary men with no special training, but they had been with Jesus.  There is a spark and a life about Pastor Saul, and he is one that I would follow in an instant.  He is nothing special, but he is following how God leads, and God is pouring his blessings down upon him and his congregation. 

Pastor Saul spoke today about the things you are given, that you hold in your hand, which soon become ordinary because you have held them for so long.  He talked about Moses and the staff in his hand.  It was an ordinary staff that he had used for 40 years tending sheep.  But in that instant when God touched this tool, it became something extraordinary, and was used for His purposes.  He talked about Joshua, and about the woman who had nothing left in her house but a few drops of oil.  He then gave an example of modern times, about a race car driver.  Each of these people had something in their hand or their house that was ordinary, but which God wanted to use.  His exhortation to us, from what I could gather, was to look around and see what we are holding onto that is ordinary but God wants to use.  What have we had for years maybe, that God wants to touch.  And once we find it, believe!  It was a good challenge to hear, and I look forward to pondering it more with my husband and those who were also there.

After church we gathered together again to head back to the resort.  None of us felt like much food, so my family went straight to the pool.  Since it was our last day here, I let the kids play for 3 hours in the pool.  I also played, and got some sun.  I figured I needed to get some color on this white skin of mine to show that I had been out of the rain and in the sun!

Towards evening Rachel took our kids so Mark and I could have some time together.  Instead of go to the resort restaurants, we took off walking down the streets.  This is much more our style…to “go local” and get away from all the tourist stuff.  We stopped at a few stores, and bought a few things, and stopped by KFC to get dinner for Mark on the way back.  J  We got the kids, settled into our room, and packed for our early morning.  It is our last night here, but I will sleep well knowing that I will be home tomorrow.

 

Mexico, June 26

Not sure if it’s the heat or the Crohn’s, but the dizzies are coming back again.  Usually I can just take a deep breath and wait for it to pass.  It’s not to the point of passing out, so I should be good the rest of the trip.  I’m still just eating eggs for breakfast, a stir-fry for lunch and dinner, and as much pineapple as I can handle.  I think the Lara bars are a good supplement, and there is no way I could do this without them!  My side feels better today…..no dull ache.  I’m very glad about that.  All in all, I am very pleased that I’ve been able to go to Mexico with Crohn’s and survive. 

This morning I took the kids down to the beach for a short playtime.  Even though the water was calm and we only were in up to my knees, it was amazing how much power the waves hold as they pull back into the ocean.  I had a hold of both kids with a vice-grip, and we had a great time playing.

We traveled to a market later this morning.  It wasn’t quite what we expected though.  Mark and I both remember shopping in Mexico City, and how we were not harassed at every turn to spend our money.  Instead we were able to just browse at our own leisure and enjoy the day.  Since PV is a tourist town, they are used to rich American’s coming and spending money, and I guess we look the part.  Sigh…..One guy even got it right as he said,”come buy more junk!”  That’s right…most of it is just little trinkets that will quickly be forgotten.  Still, it was good to get out of the resort area and into a more local area, even if it wasn’t what we thought it would be.  We found a few things to buy, and the kids got some “treasures.”  I didn’t want to stop, but the rest of the family was done being in the heat, so we left and came home.  The taxi driver tried to get Mark to buy some cocaine on the ride back, which was an interesting bit of local “color.”  No, he doesn’t do any, so it just ended up making him mad at the guy.  Thankfully the trip back to the hotel was short. 

Tonight we go back to the dump.  Even though this is an optional time, I think our whole group is going.  I’m glad about that.  I feel we are here to serve, and so it’s important to serve whenever we can, wherever we can.  I think it will be good for my kids to see, one more time, what it’s like to live with virtually nothing.

****

Before we went out to the dump tonight Veronica took us by a tamale stand.  My goodness, those things were huge!  And they smelled oh so good.  I love authentic Mexican food, and so wished I could each one.  Maybe I will be able to another year.

I’m amazed at how much of the Spanish is coming back just in being here a few days.  I find a comfort in being able to go up to people and at least converse a bit.  I still have a long way to go though!

Our driver took us from the tamale stand out to the areas surrounding the old dump.  As I’ve explained, these people live in poverty.  No other way to say it but that.  We took the same route we did last time.  It was so cool to hear our driver sound out the call for food:  BEEPBEEP, BEEPBEEPBEEP.  Over and over again until kids started running after the bread truck like my kids do after the ice cream man, and people start the emerge from their houses.  They know where we are going, and by the time we get there already a line of kids is waiting at the truck.  I help this time with bagging the bread.  The kids each get one sweet bread or donut, and we take 3 breads and put them in a sack for the adults.  I don’t get to interact with the people much at this stop because I’m busy getting things ready to hand out.  Pretty soon we move on to the next area.

It is light out this time as we drive by the dump.  We can see even more clearly the people inside, sorting garbage, or sitting in their “sorting” area, taking a break.  The smell is the same as before….rank garbage.  I see again the buzzards sitting atop the big hill before I go and bag some more bread.  This was the stop last time where the mom had her 2 month old girl who didn’t have a name.  I so wanted to see them again.  There was a faint hope inside of me that maybe we could help her give her child a name.  But…..I didn’t see her.  There are many stops, and we soon load up to go to another neighborhood.

This next neighborhood was one that we did not visit before.  As we got out of the vehicles we saw the shacks.  These are not houses made of bricks and stone, like some of the others were.  Those at least were solid, if lacking in comfort.  These houses were like “pretend” houses….the type of houses you would make as a child out of whatever you found lying around in the grass or the kitchen or the recycling bin.  They were very basic structures; I’m sure with a dirt floor, and a basic roof and walls.  Dirt courtyards were littered with old furniture and toys.  Looking down a street I see kids smiling as they carry their bread and candy back to their “homes.”  Many of them have no shoes, and their clothes are dirty and ill-fitting.  In one place the family is cooking.  There are about 5 adults sitting under a makeshift canopy.  They have cut a hole in the middle of a 55-gallon drum, and into this they place whatever wood they can find to make a fire.  On top of the drum is a bit pot of something cooking.  A woman comes out with dough for tortillas.  She rolls them out by hand, quickly wipes a rag across the top of the drum, and places the tortillas there to cook.  There are many adults at this place, and even though it looks like there are plenty of tortillas, I know there will not be enough to go around.  Pretty soon the tortilla lady comes and asks for bread, and we gladly give some to her.  There is an old camper trailer on one corner, with an awning out the side.  This would look like a good place for someone to live, I would think.  And then I look behind at the 15-foot pile of trash that serves as their backyard.  I cannot imagine my kids living in an area like this.  The roofs to the houses look no more than 6 feet tall.  And all of them look as if a stiff wind would blow these down houses of cards.

Our next stop is at the dump.  We are prepared this time, so it doesn’t take us by surprise.  We have lemons to bag and give out this time, and before I can even get started on this task there is a line of 20 people waiting to be served.  We dig in and do the job, and everyone gets fed.  It seems to go by very fast.  When we are done, I look around.  I wanted to find the man I spoke to the other night, the one whose heart was so different.  My heart was drawn to talk with him again.  I saw him by the truck, talking with our driver.  He had on the same dirty clothes, and the same dirty hat, as he did the other night.  I walked up, put my hand on his shoulder, and said, “Senor, como estas?”  (Sir, how are you?).  He looked over, smiled a big wide smile, and shook my hand.  We tried to talk with each other, but the Spanish he was using had lots of words in it I didn’t know.  Again, my heart understood the jist of what he was saying, but his smile and hand motions told the world of his story.  I wanted clarification, to make sure I understood, and so I asked Veronica to come and help.  She said that he is just so thankful in his heart for God, and how he provides.  Every day he provides the bread that he eats.  His needs are taken care of, and he trusts his God to do that.  He is happy because he knows all will be okay.  I was so touched by his faith.  When you literally have to have the faith for your daily bread, to believe in “give us this day our daily bread´ you have a mighty faith indeed.  I asked Veronica what his name was, later, and she told me it was Chabba Salvador.  She also told us that when his children were little, their mother abandoned them, and now he works in the dump to support himself and his two kids.  I want to remember Chabba, and pray for him.  He has touched my heart with how simply he trusts God.  It is a lesson I need to carry each day in my life.

We leave the dump, and make one more stop.  There are a few kids that come here, but not many adults.  We see the girl with the injured leg again, and wonder how she is.  We saw her the other night, and Pastor Bill (the one with the healing charge on his life) prayed for her foot.  I couldn’t really figure out how to ask her how her foot was, but that’s okay.  We fed her again, and I’m certain that one day soon she will walk without her crutches again. 

This was an amazing night.  We fed 324 people with simple pieces of bread.  Yet look at how much their hearts and souls are being fed.  As we walked back to our vans from the dump, smiles of genuine gratitude graced the beautiful faces of the people.  I saw a Spider Man doll clinging to the fence that surrounds the pile of dirt that was the old dump.  He clings there seemingly with hope, not letting go, just as these people here do.  I smiled in the fact that someone still believes in heroes, enough to put him up there. 

I think this church and all that they are doing qualifies them as being heroes.

 

Mexico, June 25

This morning it was wonderful to wake up!  Our family was exhausted, so we slept in.  Around 8:30 I looked over at the kids’ bed to where my son lay.  He was awake too, but neither one of us wanted to get out of bed yet.  So instead, we both held our hands up and out, then drew them to our chest, and we gave each other an air hug.  No words were said, but none needed to be said.  I tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t working.  So, I jumped out of my bed and jumped right in the middle of both my kids!  I snuggled under the blankets, and they snuggled up to me, and we lay there in perfect happiness for a short time.  A memory was made. 

 After breakfast we got in the vans to take us back to the same schools we have visited before.  My group went back to the first school I went to, where I met Kevin.  I so hoped that Kevin would be there.  I wanted to see if he remembered any of the words we worked on!  But when we got to the school, we found out the kids had been let out early, and most had gone home already.  Only 15-20 kids where there, and none were the ones I remember.  Still, we fed them and gave them juice.  My son ended up playing peek-a-boo with a boy not much older than one, and it was fun to see him taking that initiative.  It was also fun to watch the moms as my son played with their sons!  We didn’t stay long, and then were on our way again.

As we drove on, Veronica took us by the dump so we could see it in the daylight.  As we drove, I was able to get more details.  Apparently this dump was the main dump site as recent as just a few years ago.  It was that scenario that Linda came into when she asked to go where no American would go.  The garbage would come to this huge open pile of stuff, and be dumped on the ground.  Yes, people actually lived IN the dump.  As soon as children could walk they were most often working alongside their parents, digging through the trash.  There was no wall between the big pile of garbage and the neighborhood, and the houses were made of whatever they could find.  Massive amounts of people lived and worked under its shadow.  The sewage ran free down the streets, and when it rained a black stream of water would pour off the mountain of garbage and into the streets.  I guess that the smell was horrendous, and in general, things were much, much worse.

Now, about 500 or more people live around the dump.  The structures, some of them, are still constructed using whatever materials can be found.  Many are basic brick structures furnished with the things that people found laying around that they could use.  The kids still run half naked and without shoes, and the smell is still there. 

A new dump was built a few years ago, and dirt was piled on top of the stinking pile of garbage that was here.  I don’t know how high this dirt pile is that used to be the dump….I’m guessing 100 feet tall?  It looks to me to be a couple of football fields long, and just as wide.  I’m not good at measurements, and so it very well could be even bigger than that.  Regardless, it is huge.

Now, all that comes into this location is the garbage that is to be sorted for recycling, and the main bulk of garbage is taken to the new dump.  At the new dump, they do not allow people to work among the garbage.  But here, at the old dump, a small population of people still makes their living sifting through the rotting stuff that other people throw away.  That was who we saw, and those are the people that we fed.  They still are I believe…the poorest of the poor.

The church that we work with here has done an amazing job.  Their pastor, Saul, has said that he doesn’t need to rest as long as there is work to be done.  “I’ll be dead soon enough and I can rest then,” he has told some of our group.  I like that attitude.  Right now, the church feeds 1,100 kids a day.  A DAY.  That includes the kids at the dump, at the schools, and I believe at the 4 daycare centers that they run.  And there is sooo much more that they do.  This church is a GIVING church, and because of that they have made a huge difference in this town.  Veronica said that about 20% of the money needed to run all the programs comes from sisters churches like ours.  The rest comes from the church members.  Wow!  It is amazing what can be done when God’s people give. 

Even though there is not much garbage being dumped at the old dump, there are still tons of buzzards that surround the area.  As we drove through I first thought the dark spots were cows, they seemed so big, but it didn’t make sense that there would be cows on the side of the dump.  Pretty soon I realized they were these huge birds, looking for a meal.  I cannot even imagine a small child chasing one of those things away for a half-eaten sandwich.

We drove past the dump, and then visited one of the daycare centers.  The parents pay $60 US a month for their child to come here.  For that, their child gets 3 meals a day, full care while there, and preschool and kindergarten services.  It sounds like a lot compared to what the people at the dump make, but the people who send their kids here are in a different class than those of the dump.  The kids were so cute at this school…splashing in a little kiddie pool, and the workers were all nice and seemed to love what they were doing.  I was glad to see one of these centers so that we could get a better idea of more of what this local church does.

This afternoon we simply swam, a lot.  I’m pretty tired, but I’m not sure if that’s from the heat and sun, or if it’s this Crohn’s again sapping everything I have.  Or, could it be the lack of true sustenance for me?  Not sure.  I know how to push through, and that’s what I’m doing.  I woke up with a small ache in my side, so I’m wondering if the Crohn’s is acting up.  Es la vida, no?

Tomorrow we’ll go shopping in a local market, and then tomorrow night at least Jacob and I will go back to the dump.  My son wants to go.  I will not stop whatever drive is in him right now.

****

Tonight after we got back into the room I left to find a quiet spot to myself.  Hah!!!  There are not any quiet places in a resort filled with people drinking all they want, whenever they want!  Regardless, I went down by the ocean and found a lounge chair away from everything else.  I was going to do a bit of a bible study I brought, but I ended up just sitting, looking at the clouds, and listening to the waves crash below me.  It was a much needed time for me to just breathe, and do nothing else.  I reflected on this trip, on the people, and about all that God is doing.  It’s all good, and I look forward to whatever He brings into our lives.

 

Mexico, June 24 (pm)

I’m back in the hotel right now, and it is late.  We just returned from the dump a short while ago.  I got the kids snuggled in bed, talked with Mark, and then came out onto the deck to write.  I can hear the waves crashing just down the way, the air is heavy and warm, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.  I want to look back on tonight, and get it all down, before any of the images escape my brain.

We piled into the vans and headed out to meet the bread guy.  He brought a bunch of sweet breads and donuts to feed to the people.  We drove out towards the dump, and pretty soon Ramon, our driver started to honk the horn.  Honkhonk….honkhonkhonk!!!  Over and over and over again he honked for the kids and families to come and get fed.  Pretty soon I saw one boy, and then another, take off running in front of us, trying to beat us to the spot where their bellies could have food.  Mothers with smaller children came out and started walking after us.    

In the meantime, right at that moment, my son suddenly had to go to the bathroom, and bad!  So bad that he was almost crying, and holding himself just trying not to have an accident.  Finally I went up to the front of the van and asked Veronica if there was somewhere he could go.  I didn’t have any hope that there would be a bathroom nearby, but I at least hoped she would point us to a tree or something that would be acceptable.  She spoke to Ramon, and then said to me that there was a sister from their church who lived right in this area, and they might be able to let him use their bathroom.  Thankfully they were there, and answered the door, and let Jacob in.  There was a small courtyard where a small SUV was crammed in, safe and sound for the night.  We walked through the doorway (I won’t call it a door for I can’t even remember if there was anything more than a curtain) and into a very dark enclosure.  I was walking into a house that represented all that was typical of the structures I had driven past for 3 days.  The front room held an old couch, and nothing else.  No carpet or tile was on the floor.  There were no windows, and there was no light there.  The nice lady led us to a curtained off area, and thankfully turned on a light.  This was the bathroom.  It was a triangular shaped room, with a toilet in one corner, a shower head in another corner, and storage in the third.  The walls were the same concrete blocks on the inside of the house as the outside.  The toilet had no flusher, and no tank.  I have no idea how they clear the liquid or solids out of it.  The toilet paper was put into the garbage next to the toilet.  The shower was just a shower head in the corner.  There was no curtain, and I think just a small drain.  There is no way for the water to be contained and I get the impression that showers are not very common, which makes sense if water is scarce.  Again, I was so thankful for the lights, for I have no idea how I would have figured out what to do and where to go without them in that place.  As we were leaving, I chanced a peek further into the house, but really couldn’t see that far.  I got the idea though that it was more of the same…..dark, virtually windowless concrete rooms with minimal furnishings for people to live on and in.

When we came out, a ton of kids were already lined up to get food.  And by food, I mean that it was one donut per kid, and one cup of juice-water.  We had the 3 little kids of our group handing out the food, and I think there were over 50-60 kids that came.  One thing I noticed was the lack of shoes.  I know that many little boys hate wearing shoes, but some of these kids’ feet were so white from all the dust that I wonder if they ever had any shoes.  I didn’t take too many pictures here, because it felt like I would have just been an obnoxious American taking pictures to show off to my friends back home.  I can’t imagine that many of these people feel good about the way they live, but I didn’t need to make it worse by getting it on film.  I did manage a few pictures though, for which I’m glad.  After the kids got food the adults lined up for a bag of bread, which contained 3 sweet breads.  There was only one bag per adult, along with a cup of juice-water.  Everyone knew the drill, and it all went very smoothly.  Pretty soon I didn’t know what to do, and I spied 3 girls standing off a ways.  I didn’t want anyone to miss out, so I asked if they wanted any “pan” (bread) and they said they already had some.  Then this one little 11 year-old starts talking to me in flawless English!  I asked her where she came from and she said PV, and then California, and Oregon, and then back and forth to PV.  She is the second child I’ve met who has come from America back to these parts of PV.  I desperately want to ask how they adjust to the difference, but feel that there is no way I can do this.  How do you ask someone if they like where they are living compared to where they came from?  The girls and I had a good little chat though, and in the end I got their picture.  I asked the girl who spoke English about this feeding program.  I asked specifically if this is the only food that some of these kids get each day, if they don’t go to school, and she answered yes.  She said that for her family, no, because they are not as poor as a lot of these people.  But yes, for most of them, this is their only food. 

A donut and some watery juice as your only meal?  Again, wow…..

A few other kids came up for their food, and I discovered that they all wanted their picture taken.  This opened up the entire rest of the night for me to take many more pictures.

From this location, where we fed over 100 people total, we went to a second location.  This place was directly by the dump, probably less than 200 feet from the wall, and as we turned down the dirt road we passed the dump where we could see the piles of trash and people walking through collecting things to sell.  When we came out of the vans the stench of garbage hung in the air, but it was manageable.  I kept looking back at the hill with its lights and the people going to work to earn a few dollars worth for the night.

At this second location our kids again handed out food, and then started to blow some bubbles with the children.  I’m not sure if the Mexican kids really got into it, but our kids had a great time blowing bubbles at them!  Pretty soon I saw my son going up to two little kids sitting on the side, and began blowing bubbles directly at them.  I think these kids were too young to really grasp that this could be fun, and they didn’t react much.  One little boy had no clothes on at all, and just sat there without engaging any of us.

There were a few moms there with babies, and pretty soon we were “talking.”  One mom had a one year old boy, I think, who was very cute.  I wasn’t able to talk much with her, but did tell her that my son likes to make faces at and play with the little kids!  She smiled and understood.  The other mom had a 2 month old girl.  Rachel ended up holding this girl for a time.  When she gave her back to mom she asked for the little girl’s name.  The mom said in halting English that she doesn’t have a name yet.  Oh……….that just breaks my heart.  As a mom myself…..I can’t imagine what one must go through for you to not be able to give your child a name.  Sigh……

The third place we went was the dump itself.  When our guide Veronica told us this was where we were headed, the mood turned somber in the van.  Many of us had never been there before, but we had driven around it enough to know to be shocked.  And yet, what we experienced was nothing compared to what it was 13 years ago when Linda started coming……

We drove in through the gate and parked the vans, and immediately noticed the large pile of trash sitting in the middle of whatever space this was.  It was night, and so it was hard to determine all that was going on.  There were probably 30 or so people all working in this same area.  Many of them had bags tied around their waist so that they could put the things they found in it.  Most had dirty clothes.  The smell of rotting garbage was intense.  These people are fed like this every night, so pretty quickly a line had formed.  Two of our little ones (my son included) gave out bags which held 3 sweet breads.  Many people thanked us, and many just walked on after getting their food.  Each person or family had an area set aside where they could sort their trash, and many went to those areas to rest.  Or they just sat down where they could.  It didn’t matter, because they were all waiting for the next truck to arrive.

Towards the beginning I saw a man who struck me as different, and I went right up to him to say hello.  The world would have told me to be afraid and to stay away.  He wasn’t anything much….maybe 5’8”, 150 pounds, and looked to be in his mid 50’s, though it is hard to tell how old someone is here.  His clothes were dirty and stained, and when I went to shake his hand his fingers curled in the early stages of arthritis and the calluses were so rough that his hand felt like sandpaper.  Still, my heart told me that there was something special about this man, and I wanted to meet him.  We said hello, and his smile was bright, along with his eyes.  He said something to me that I couldn’t make out, so I asked him to repeat it.  He did, and then raised one hand towards heaven.  I smiled, and nodded, and think I said, “Dios.”  He smiled, and nodded as well.  I understood that he was saying God is good.  Even with no common language, we have the same heart and Lord.  I patted him on the shoulder as he walked away and said “God bless you.” 

Later, that same man came through the line.  I don’t know where he gets his faith, or what his story is.  Maybe he just believes God to take care of his every need, when most of his need is feeding his family.  Maybe he sees the power of God at work in the little things each and every day.  He doesn’t need to wonder if God really cares because he KNOWS that there is a God who loves him.  Regardless, there was something real and deep about his heart, and I was honored to meet him here in the dump, when he took a break from sifting through the garbage. 

We continued to give out the bread and water, and I was so proud of my kids.  My son, the timid one on this trip, stepped right up to hand out the bread without any fear at all.  Common sense would say to stay away from these dirty, stinky men and women who you cannot talk to.  But something took a hold of my son, and he bravely served the needs of those he came to serve.  I am so proud of him.

It was almost time for us to leave when a garbage truck pulled in.  My husband called me over to witness what was about to happen.  As soon as the truck stopped, the people around us dropped whatever they were doing and ran over to it.  Even those who were eating or still waiting to get food, left us to go dig through garbage.  This was a “fresh” truck that had untold money stashed inside in the way of cardboard and plastic.  This is where the real money is made, and before the truck was even done dumping there were probably 20 or more people digging through this pile.  My husband said that these people can get six pesos, or 50 cents, per bag of cardboard or other recyclables, and that they try to get 12-15 bags a night.  A bag worth 5 pesos is almost as tall as a small man, and probably is 30 gallons in size.  Think of the huge black garbage bags that people use to put their leaves in, and you get the picture of how big a bag they needed to fill for 50 cents.

They work the whole night in this smelly place for only 6-8 dollars, if they are lucky.

We watched them for a while, and then piled into the vans to leave.  I asked Veronica about the dump, and found out that the big hill of dirt behind us was the original place of the dump, where Linda had come all those years before.  That it was here that she saw a young child fight off a buzzard for a half-eaten sandwich, and it broke her heart.  Now, it is much cleaner, if you can say that.  I think the garbage is sorted by the people here, and then dumped in the big pile, and then covered with dirt so it doesn’t smell so bad.  Still, each of these main players in this drama had their own “place” there in the dump where they can go and rest and eat during the night, and take the things that they collected and sorted before they go to sell them.  Do they live IN the dump anymore?  No, but seeing the houses that they call home, it doesn’t seem like there is much of a difference.

There were a few bags of bread left so we went to one more location.  At this place no adults came out, and I wondered if it was because they were all working in the dump.  We had 15-20 kids show up, and we gave out all the rest of the bread that we had.  All total tonight we fed over 250 meals to the people who live around the dump.  And this happens with this church each and every night.

Back at the hotel we did a quick wrap-up, and found out we can go out again on Saturday and do the same thing.  My first reaction was a selfish one, as I wanted to rest, but I quickly pushed that thought aside.  Then my son raised his hand and said that he wanted to go.  I was floored, shocked, flummoxed, and amazed.  How many American boys, 6 years old, would volunteer to go back to the dusty streets, and back into the garbage, to feed kids they don’t know AND can’t talk to?  Not many.  My heart aches for those children, but it aches in appreciation and pride for my boy.

I think this trip is making a difference in his life.

As I sit here on my deck writing all these things, God has been giving me a show in the sky.  I can see the night sky light up with huge bolts of lightning in the clouds every minute or so, and hear the big boom of the big kettle drums of heaven. 

It just reminds me that He is in control, and all power and glory belong to Him.

I stand up to go in, and ask, “Okay God, send one more big one, just for me.”  I wait there holding my breath, a smile playing on my lips.  Before one minute has passed, a huge lightning bolt reaches down from heaven and touches the earth.

My smile gets as big as it can as I hear the thunder roll over me.

I am at peace.

 

Mexico, June 24 (am)

This morning I took the kids out to the beach before breakfast just to enjoy the sand and the waves.  I love the sound of the ocean, and could listen to that for hours on end in total peace.  Of course with two kids nearby it wasn’t exactly “peaceful” but it was fun nonetheless.  I especially liked just watching my daughter as she stood mesmerized by the waves, exclaiming every so often, “Mommy!  That was a BIG one!!!”  Very cool.

Breakfast was good and soon it was time to pack up the vans to go to another school feeding.  We followed a different route this time, though the beginning was the same.  We ended up out in the “sticks” as we would call it, in a very country type of setting.  For a long time we followed a single-lane dirt road with fences and what looked like pasture-land on either side.  I laughed because at one point in time a bicycle passed us on this road, because we could only go so fast over all the potholes!  The houses here seem to be mostly made of concrete blocks or bricks, and are spaced further apart.  I almost got the impression that there was a bit of land with each house, though I doubt that was the case.  These houses definitely though were not the houses of made-up materials scavenged from the dump like the other houses we saw around the other school. 

This school was set against a mountain, and was a spot of color amidst the brown.  There were bright blue accents to go along with the nice white walls of the school building.  Patches of grass were interspersed with concrete walkways, and small trees dotted along in the grass.  A tall fence surrounded the entire compound, and was topped with razor wire.  This was a change from the other school in that the other school just had high concrete walls surrounding it, and not razor wire.  It’s kind of interesting that here, where there is obviously a smaller population, there is more security around the school setting.  As we stood there waiting for the bread and juice to arrive, we glimpsed some of the kids inside.  They were all in nice white shirts, skirts for the girls, and pants for the boys.  When it was time for the kids to line up, I was very impressed with the discipline here.  I was told later that this school actually is poorer than the other one, which surprised me.  It seems, with how nice the school and the kids were, that this must be the richer.  But these are more rural kids, not as much city kids as the others, and have even less means than the kids we’ve seen so far.  Regardless, the kids were great!  I had a great time again trying to learn Spanish and teach English.  One little girl pulled out a piece of paper and started to ask me what English words were to go along with the Spanish words.  She would write both words down on the paper, and I assumed it would be for her to read and study later.  Boy was I surprised when she ripped the paper out and gave it to me so I could continue to study!  It totally made me smile at how this little girl is taking care of me, a total stranger.

Later this same little girl came and asked me where I lived.  I told her, and then she asked if it was very hot there.  I said no, and tried to tell her that it rains a lot where I’m from.  The best I could come up with was there was a lot of “water from the sky.”  She picked that up, and thankfully taught me the word for rain (which I’ve forgotten already!).  I then tried to push my luck and tell her that it snows every now and then.  Boy was that fun!  I again told her about the rain falling from the sky, only when it’s really cold out, and that’s it’s white, and what do you call that in Spanish?  She didn’t know, but turned to one of the moms who was sitting outside the gate.  The mom smiled at me, and it was then that I realized she had been watching us the whole time!  I went up to the fence and spoke to her, me in halting Spanish and her in halting English.  I said that this heat isn’t too bad for me, but it’s hard for my kids.  Another mom laughed, and basically said that it was hot for them!  I said that yes, for just a few days it’s okay for me, but that if I lived here full time I know it would get to me.  The first mom then said something that really struck me deep.  She said, “Yes, when you are only on vacation for a few days here it’s not so bad.”

She didn’t say when you come here to help us, or on a mission.  Maybe that’s not in her language or understanding, and “vacation” is all she knows for a word to put with it.  I began to wonder just how many “tourist” groups come to these schools to “feed” and take pictures, and then go away.  Is it one of the things you can do from the cruise ship….”see the locals!”  I know it sounds harsh, but it feels like they are used to groups of strangers coming to the schools, just to see how things are here.   

I would go back each day for hours just to teach the kids and play with them, if I could.  I wonder what God is calling me to, with the stirring that is being raised up?  I know Mark and I both said we would love to live in Mexico and teach, but do not feel that that is where God has called us.  We continue to be called to where we live right now, and to do what we are doing there.

But what if…………..

Back to the hotel we go to swim again and eat again and rest again.  I’m sure glad we brought our Ipod and attachments to hook it up to the TV so our two kids can watch cartoons in English.  We need them to rest, and they are beyond naps, so the best thing for them is to let them watch cartoons.  Watching them in a different language just isn’t the same.  J

Tonight we head out to the dump.  It’s apparently going to be quite the experience, and I’m looking forward to it.  I don’t know what to expect, but I’m open to whatever is thrown my way.

Oh, on another note, we got some clarification this morning on the stone at the School of Champions.  Apparently it was not erected by Linda, the woman who was killed on the airplane with her husband Joe.  This was her mission field, yes, and she was very determined to make a change in Puerto Vallarta.  But it was erected a few months after the plane went down by their son Jeff and his wife Melinda as a remembrance to them and I’m sure, to what they had started down in this area. 

Again….can one person change the world?

I’m seeing that the answer is yes.  Just ask all these little kids that now have running water, showers, and food if one person has made a difference.  Ask the kids who used to work in the dump if they appreciate that their younger siblings don’t have to do the same thing.  Ask the parents if they are glad to have food to feed their family and if they like knowing their kids don’t have to work in the filth anymore.  Ask the parents who know that their child might just have a way out now.

I bet at least some of them will answer that yes, one person CAN make a difference in this world.

 

Mexico, June 23 (pm)

I got some time to ask my husband some questions this afternoon as we rested.  I asked him about the little old lady who came last night to the school and fed hotdogs to everyone.  She was a bit cranky (so a bunch of our group said), and I wanted to know what her story was.  Apparently, she’s lived in Puerto Vallarta for 40 years and has been coming into this neighborhood that whole time, twice a week, feeding the same food to the people.  She looks at groups like us, and maybe (we didn’t ask her….but this is our guess from the conversations that went on) thinks that we are there more for our own good than for the people there.  We didn’t bring any food, we really are not doing anything more than what the people already do, and are just in the way.  We come for our little trips and then get to say “look at me!  I went and fed the hungry!”  Yet, here she is….living among and serving these people for most of her life.

I wonder how much truth is in that attitude.  That we are here almost as much to serve our own purposes as to serve others?  I know that both my husband and I believe we were supposed to come on this trip, period.  Ours is not to question why.  But I also know that I want my kids to see how good they have it in the US.  I want them to be more grateful for what they are given.  And yes, I will feel good about the work that was done while here.  But did I come just to make myself feel good?  No.

I’m not sure if this lady realizes that without our church, there would not be a school here to feed the people in.  She might say that she was doing it just fine for 30 years before the school came around, and will continue to do it long after we are gone.  That could be true.  I bet she’ll be here doing the same thing until the day she dies, and I so admire her for that determination to do what she can, right now.  Yet I still look at the good that has been done, and see the impact that is being made in the hearts of those who have come to serve on this trip.  We are extremely blessed in America with all that we’ve been given.  Is it bad to see how the rest of the world lives, so that we can be more kind and considerate and giving in our own lives, back home?

Yet the question needs to be asked….what more can we do?  How can we show people like this lady that we are not just “here today, gone tomorrow?”  Is it just enough to fly down and feed the hungry?  In a way, yes it is.  Jesus said that if you feed and care for the least in this world, you are feeding and caring for him.  But I don’t think there is any harm in asking….are we working in our lives to the highest and best possible use that God has called us to?

Sigh……..

We piled back into the vans for another trip out to the school, this time for the afternoon group.  Back we went, past the cruise ship, past the hospital, past the shops and people sitting in doorways, past the dogs roaming the streets and the skinny cows in fields.  Out on the bumpy, dusty road, and back to the little colorful school that sits on top of one small hill, in the shadow of another, gigantic hill.

This time, things went a little different, and it was so cool!  I had brought some beads from home, thinking that girls (and even boys!) love to make nice looking things, and that it would be fun to make “pretties” with the kids.  There were a lot more girls this time, and as soon as we pulled the beads out everyone sat down, eager to make their own bracelet.  Pretty soon nice-looking patterns started to emerge, and the girls wanted to do more and more and more.  We were going to play some games, like we did in the morning, but everyone was having so much fun that we decided to just let them go as long as they wanted or until our supplies ran out.  Some girls and boys did five or six bracelets, and wore them all with a big smile! 

This type of bracelet can be tricky to tie, and if you are not careful you can dump the beads off and ruin all that you’ve just done.  Since I have done plenty at home I ended up tying a bunch of them closed.  After a while, kids started to come up to me saying “teacher” as they held up their bracelets, wanting me to tie them.  This so touched my heart.  I am a teacher, but it’s been a while since I’ve been in the classroom.  I know these kids love and respect their teachers.  By them calling me “teacher,” I knew that I had just been accepted into their hearts. 

When one little girl was finished with her bracelet I pointed to it and said, in Spanish, that it was very beautiful.  She smiled, and quickly took it off her arm and gave it to me.  I didn’t want to take it, and tried to give it back, but she shook her head no.  So I took it, ran around the table, and gave her a big hug.  A little later another girl came up to me, and I also commented on her bracelets.  She had two, and wanted to give me both.  I shook my head no, and again she insisted that I take both.  I couldn’t take both from her, so I said just one.  She took one off and gave it to me.  I then hugged her and told her, “Tu es muy bonita,” which means, “You are very beautiful.”  Her shoulders sighed in my arms, and I knew it was something she had needed to hear. 

It touched me and many of the others here to know that, even though these kids had virtually nothing, they were willing to give to us the bracelets that they had just made.

I will cherish my two bracelets for a long, long time.

We sat there under the trees until it was time for dinner, making bracelet after bracelet.  It probably went on for a good 90 minutes, and yet the kids still did not want to stop.  One little girl held the bag of beads and told me that she didn’t want me to take them away.  I smiled at her and told her that I was leaving all of them for her teacher, so the school could use them.  She smiled at me, knowing she might be able to make more after we were gone.

Dinner for these kids was simple, just as breakfast was for the other group.  It consisted of a small plastic cup of some sort of soup that had hominy, chicken, and onions in it, plus a cup of juice.  It smelled absolutely horrid, yet everyone there ate it and was thankful for what they got.

After dinner the ice cream man showed up!  My husband was just waiting for this moment.    I was helping to clean up the beads, but got the story from him afterwards.  Apparently, when the ice cream man showed up, they talked and agreed that for 30 people to have ice cream it would be 200 pesos (around $17 US).  A bunch of our group pitched in money so that all of the kids could get ice cream.  Little did we know but the guy was totally keeping track, and when 30 people had come through, he looked at Mark and told him that that was it.  Mark knew there were still people who didn’t get ice cream, including the adults from the school, so he looked him square in the eye and said, “don’t worry, we will take care of it.  Whoever wants ice cream, gets ice cream.  We will make sure you are taken care of.”  The guy believed Mark, and kept serving until everyone had a big ol’ cone filled with their choice of ice cream.  All total it was about 35 people who this guy served to.  Mark looked at him, when all had gone away, and said, “Well, I know we had more than 30, so how does 400 pesos sound (about $35 US) for the ice cream?”  The guys’ eyes got big, and he said something like “really?”  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing!  Mark told him yes, that that’s what we were going to pay him, because we want to be a blessing to him as well as the kids.  The guy thanked Mark with a big grin on his face, and walked away, having just made in 30 minutes what he probably would make in 5 days.

As we were preparing to leave, I saw a bunch of our group standing around a pile of rocks that were at the school.  It is a pile of 12 pinkish-red rocks cemented together, about 2 feet tall, on a square cement base.  I wandered over there to see what it was, and felt the somber mood in the air.  Apparently, when Linda Knight came here over 10 years ago, they built this alter as a remembrance.  Some of the local people say that she was there when it was created, and others think it was built after her last trip in January 2000.  Engraved on the base was a date, but it was covered in dirt and difficult to read.  The teacher from the school brought some water over and ever so gently tried to wash it away so we could read what was scrawled in the cement.  It looked like it was in 2000, but we couldn’t see what month.  We looked around at each other in silence.  Even though I’m new to this church, I know what happened 10 years ago, when Joe and Linda were coming back from this mission field.  Their plane crashed, and everyone on board was killed.  As we stood there we realized that if in fact Linda was present for the building of this alter, it was on the trip right before she was killed.  Big sigh…. and a big wow.

I look around again at the massive hill, this little school, the children, the shacks, and all that has been done since that time, 10 years ago.  And I see with my own eyes how one person can in fact make huge a difference in the lives of others.

Our vans took us back to our resort, and soon we were all eating again.  Over dinner Mark told me that Bill, the guy with the healing prayers, called him out on the carpet for something regarding his diabetes.  Mark for 20 years has called it “My Diabetes,” and Bill said, “Don’t claim it.”  God doesn’t want you to have something like this disease, so why should you claim it and put that hold on your life?  By doing so, you are, I think is what they said, basically prohibiting God from using his power in your life by claiming something in your heart.  He’s already healed you….so claim that instead!  Bill said he didn’t think Mark would leave with his diabetes.  WOW!!!  Could it be true?  Could this fight be over?  Mark and I both think the same thing, even without speaking……that it is almost beyond imagine.

On that note….this morning a young man in our group hit his toe on the cement wall.  It was bloody and the nail had cracked down to the cuticle.  WE took care of it as best as we could, and told him to be careful.  Later that day Bill prayed for his toe.  This afternoon when this man took his band aid off, he was amazed!  His toe had no blood, no bruise, the pain was gone, and the nail was not injured at all!  His toe was healed.  WOW!!!  I’m starting to believe……

This is an amazing trip.  I don’t fully know all that God wants me and my family to get out of this time, but already I see him working in my husband and I.  Tomorrow night we go out to the dump to feed the people there.  It should be an unforgettable experience.

BTW:  With this Crohn’s. I’m doing well so far.  I ate the same thing tonight as last night, and it has done well in my system.  I have found what I can eat at the buffet, and can supplement with Lara Bars.  I might lose a few pounds while here, but that’s fine.  I want to get down to a size 10.    I’m just glad that this Crohn’s has been tame, and that I’m able to function.  Notice the language?  “This Crohn’s” I’m not claiming it anymore, even if I believe I’m to have it for a while longer. 

 

Mexico, June 23 (am)

This morning we had an early start, and I am SO glad that our leader Rachel called our room to wake us up shortly after 8:00am.  All four of us were still fast asleep, and likely would have woken just in time to leave for the school!  As it was, we were able to get ready and get breakfast at the buffet before climbing into the vans again.  I think again of what an idyllic place this is, with the ocean breeze coming in to the tiki hut where we eat, and all the good food that our stomachs can handle.  I wonder yet if my kids are getting the lessons yet of this place?

We piled into the vans and set off for the School of Champions.  Our mission today was similar to yesterday:  to help serve food to the kids who come to the school and to just interact with them.  I’m looking forward to seeing the kids!

I was able to talk with my husband this morning for a short time.  Since he speaks Spanish fluently, he has been able to ask a lot of questions regarding what goes on here, and give us a good picture.  Apparently, when the school year starts, there are about 400 kids that show up at the School of Champions.  This school though is a little different from the others, where attendance is not mandatory.  At this school the kids can only miss 3 days throughout the year.  For their commitment to come to school, they continue to be fed and taught.  Pretty simple, it truly is a good scenario, and one that I would hope many would take advantage of.  But, as Mark was told, before a month or so is gone, most of those kids have gone away, and only 100 or so are left.  There simply is not the discipline here that we are accustomed to in the US, and so many of the kids do not keep coming. 

As we drove out to the school, I again took the time to just look around.  The first thing I spotted was this huge cruise ship sitting just a short drive outside of our resort.  This thing looked glorious parked in the bay, with its water slide on top and all of the wonders you can imagine inside!  I am told that the kids who used to work in the dump could see, from the top of the garbage pile, when these huge ships would come in, and it reminds me again of the discrepancy there is here in this city.  There are so many “rich” people of this world that come to shop and play in PV, and yet just a short drive away people are living in abject poverty.  I wonder which group of people is actually the richer

On our way out to the school I looked at all the buildings we passed.  There are of course a ton of small shops on every corner and in every nook.  There are even people who just put their wares on their doorstep, including food.  What a difference between where I live!  Most of the buildings I see are made with cheap masonry:  there might be re-bar holding the corners together, but from there it is simply bricks or large stone blocks thrown together in a somewhat organized manner.  There seem to be hardly any windows, and I wonder out loud how hot it must get in those places.  The windows and doors are just opening created when the building was made, like you would do with Lincoln Logs as a child.  Some of them have actual windows or doors in the openings, and some do not.  The ones that do not have whatever covering they can find serving as a barrier to the outside world.  I see a lot of empty upper floors of buildings, and I also see a lot of upper floors turned into a type of open-air deck.  I think it must be their way of escaping the heat, and still having their own private “space”.  If you look close as you drive by you can see the hidden courtyards, secure behind a fence, with green potted plants and often, a car or other mode of transportation safely kept inside.  These places look well kept, like the owners can put their energy not just into making the means for their family to survive, but also to make their abode as comfortable as possible.  I can’t imagine how wealthy you must be to live in a house like that, here in Mexico.  I was struck again with the people, the life, and of course the dirt.  There are hardly any paved roads where we are going, and if they are paved, it is likely with just stones cemented together.  No road is smooth to drive on.  There are plenty of speed bumps to keep people driving slowly, but I soon realized that they are made of whatever material is handy:  a roll of carpet, a large rope, or just concrete poured in an oblong pile.  I find it almost comical, all of the materials that are used, but I guess if I lived here I would want people to slow down and watch where they are going, and keep the dust down! 

Soon we pulled into the school, and parked along the side.  We were told by our guide that this morning the kids will not really be doing any school-work, because it is the last day of school.  We are not sure how many kids will show up, but we get out ready to do whatever we can.  Pretty soon, kids start to trickle in for breakfast.  It takes me a minute before I realize what their breakfast entails:  a small cup of oatmeal served in a plastic cup, and a small cup of some sort of juice.  There are left-over sweet breads for later, before they leave.  I find out from my husband that the breads that are served the kids are those that can no longer be sold in the stores, because they have gone bad.  As we look we again see that there are flies, ants, and even mold on some of the pieces.  Yet, the kids are happy to get whatever they can eat, and I look knowing that this may be all that some of these kids get all day. 

The passing out of the food is something that this church does every day, and so there really isn’t much that our group can do at this point in time.  A few of us go onto the court and start to play soccer.  After a while I notice two boys standing off to the side, and so I ask them, “Queres jugar?” which means, “do you want to play?”  One of them nods his head yes, and joins the fray.  After a bit a few more kids join as soon as they are done with their food, and it is just pure, wonderful chaos!  We don’t know who is one whose team, or which way each team is going, but we are having fun.  The ball goes flying, and whenever anyone, whichever team, scores a goal, I raise my arms again and yell “GOAL!!!”  I’m playing too of course, but I find my main joy coming just in encouraging these kids to play.

After the kids are done with their food we all gather and play a few more games.  There is a good mix of boys to girls, probably 30-40 in all, so this works well.  We play a game that we brought called “4 Corners,” and then they taught us one of their favorite games called “FootBase.”  It took me about 10 minutes to understand Footbase, but once I did, I had a blast!  It’s really a mix between baseball and soccer, where two teams are  against each other to score points off a kicked soccer ball, and you score points by running the bases before you get tagged out.  I have no idea how long we played this game, but it didn’t matter.  I didn’t care that I was sweating and hot.  I was having a great time, and the smiles on the kids’ faces were just awesome.

As we were getting ready to go, I looked off in the distance and for the first time I noticed the massive hill of dirt that towers over the countryside.  Past the hill you can see the towers of the resorts, and beyond that, the ocean.  You could just make out people who were walking up the sides of the hill, and see a road that goes up to the top.  I took some pictures, from the school looking towards the hill, with some of the shacks that these kids live in in the foreground.  It is a picture I do not want to forget.

The hill is the dump.

Apparently, years ago, it was just an open pile of garbage.  It is hard to imagine a hill this big being an open garbage dump.  I think it looks like a huge boil on the landscape, needing to be excised.  A few years back they started to put layers of dirt on the garbage so it could break down better, and not smell as bad.  I’m not sure if this is the dump where many of these kids’ parents “work,” but there were people who looked like ants along the side, and I cannot imagine what else they could have been there for.  I wonder what it would be like to live in the shadow of that hill your entire life.  To be surrounded by other people’s garbage.  To not be able to see anything beyond that hill.  To know that your future is IN that hill.  These kids are no longer allowed to work alongside their parents like in years past, but they are still in many ways tied to that hill.  The School of Champions provides a way out for some of them, but I wonder….is it enough?  Can they escape from the shadow of this hill?

We started to wrap things up as it was almost time to go.  Still, I found time for one more game of basketball with a few of the girls.  Even though I couldn’t speak to them, I found it a glorious experience to play.  It was me and 3 other girls, and of course there were no rules.    I found one girl on the other team just grabbing at me at one time, and that’s when I realized how they play!  The girl I ended up playing with as a partner was pretty good, and we had a fun time passing to each other to make a basket, and then running madly down the other end to try and stop the other girls from scoring!  And yes, I yelled just as loud when they scored as when my team did. 

I took one last look at the hill as we were getting in the vans.  My heart ached for the way that these kids live.  I want to do so much more, yet feel like my hands are tied.  This is not my country, my language, or even my people.  I can just love them and have fun, and trust the rest to God.

We drove back through the city, starting with the poor shacks, and then continuing on through the nicer residences.  The businesses dot every part of the landscape, some small and some grand.  As we go past the hospital I see people standing around, and finally realize that they must have a loved one inside.  One guy is on the phone, and I wonder if maybe his wife is in there?  We see the cruise ship again, and the massive resorts with free-flowing water and green grass, and soon pull into our resort.  We climb out exhausted from the heat, ready to relax before going out again.

 

Mexico, June 22 (pm)

This evening we went back out to the SofC in order to help with a church service there and help feed all those who come.  I’m not sure exactly who it was that came, except that it seemed to be moms with their children, of all ages.  This was my first time inside the walls here, and I was a little surprised as to how small it was.  There was just a small basketball court with a 3 story building on the end.  High walls surround the compound, keeping everything as safe as can be.  It looks like on each floor is one big room, and either bathrooms or one smaller room at the other end.  A spiral staircase leads up to the top floors.  A smaller building off to the side houses the computers where they teach these kids skills that may get them out of the dump.  The colors were bright and primary, which was a stark contrast to the constant dirt-brown all around us.  We got there a little early, so went onto the basketball court and played soccer.  We were having a great time, and people started to slowly filter in.  I soon noticed two girls about 10 years old standing outside of the court, peering in through the links of the fence.    “Queres jugar” (Do you want to play) I asked?  They both nodded yes with big eyes and jumped in the fray.  Soon we were chasing each other all over the court and having a great time.  I didn’t know who was on whose team, or which way we were going, and I’m not sure anyone else did either, but I could tell by the looks on the faces of the kids that they were having fun.  I screamed “goal!” for every time someone scored, regardless of which team.  I loved seeing the smiles on the kids as we played with them.

When it was time for church, we all filed into one of the rooms on the bottom floor.  It was probably only 30 feet long by 20 feet wide, if that.  There were plastic picnic tables for seating, bars on all the windows, and a basic whiteboard at the front.  There were no projectors, or smart boards, or colorful posters like in the schools of the US.  It was just a basic room to learn and worship in, and I’m sure all the Mexican people here were glad for at least this.  We were told there was air-conditioning, which there was.  The only problem was that with 50 or more people crammed in that little of a space there was no way the AC could keep up.  I looked over at one of our boys who was playing soccer earlier, and he was just dripping sweat.  Still, it was time to worship, so we all looked towards the front expectantly.  A smallish young man with curly dark hair came up with his classic guitar and led us in a few songs.  One of the songs I knew, and the others I didn’t.  Still, that didn’t diminish the fact that we were together, worshiping God as one body.  I was reminded then how beautiful it is when God’s people sing, no matter the language.  I love authentic worship.  When the music was done, it was time for us to go upstairs with the kids.  We probably had 30 kids plus our 10 in a small room, again with AC that didn’t quite do the job but was better than it would be without.  We had decided to tell the story of Noah, and I was the narrator.  In order to make it fun, I had the kids “help” us build the ark by pounding their fists in their palms.  It sounded so good!  Then, all the animals came into the ark, so all the kids picked their animal and made a joyful noise of animal sounds!  Finally, the rain needed to come down, so they first snapped, then clapped, and finally pounded their hands on the table to symbolize all the rain coming down.  We finished the story, and we had a great time.  The lesson from Noah that I hoped the kids would take away is that God loves you and wants to keep you safe, even if you can’t see or understand what the future holds. 

After the lesson we needed to fill some time, and so played some games.  We taught them Heads-Up-7-Up and animal charades.  I’m not sure if they got how to play, but oh well!  We then played “I Spy” and they enjoyed that guessing game.  The evening was the best that we could do at the last minute, and I know the kids had a great time!

After the services we went downstairs to feed all of these people who had come.  I think there were probably 30 kids, and then probably 15-20 women that we fed, if not more.  A nice lady from the neighborhood showed up with a tray of hot dogs, in addition to the meal the local church brought for them.  What struck me was what was in this meal, and to know that for many of these here this might be the only real food they get in that day.  It consisted of a small scoop of Spanish rice, a small scoop of runny beans, and a few measly pieces of chicken.  They got a cup of juice, and then the hot dogs were an added bonus.  Regardless of what I thought of the meal (I actually thought it looked good!), I know it was a blessing for these people who have virtually nothing.  And if it takes food to get them to hear and believe the word of God…..then we will feed them.

After dinner it was almost time to go, and I stood around wondering what to do.  Our translator was working with another one of our ladies, and I didn’t feel confident in speaking with the adults in my basic Spanish.  I didn’t want to just stand off though, not interacting with these people at all.  I just sent up a prayer, and said, “God, what do I do?”  Pretty soon I noticed a girl of about 10 walking along the lines on the basketball court, just happily going in circles.  I smiled, and joined in, keeping up with her step for step.  Pretty soon she looked back, saw me, and smiled.  She walked a little faster, and I kept up, still, step for step.  I yelled at my husband that we needed more kids, and pretty soon we had about 10 following this one little girl.  We didn’t know where we were going, but it didn’t matter!  I marched, I laughed, and pretty soon I put my hands up like an airplane.  Some of the kids joined me, and we all flew around on the lines.  We then made animals noises, and different kids started to take the lead in our simple game.  It was such great fun!  With little else to do and feeling like I could not go up to the ladies because of the language barrier, I was grateful for this small moment that I could touch these little lives. 

We all piled into our vans and headed back to our resort to again eat at the wonderful buffet.  The sun was a brilliant orange in the sky as we sat under the tiki roof and ate.  It glowed over the ocean, and filled the sky with color.  It was glorious to see.  I don’t know what God has planned for this trip, but my husband and I both know without a shadow of a doubt that we were supposed to come.  We look in anticipation towards tomorrow, where we will again feed the kids, and play with them, and show them the love of Christ.

BTW:  For dinner I went ahead and tried the stir-fried veggies that I didn’t want to try last night, along with the fruit I know is safe for me.  So far, 1.5 hours after, I’m doing okay with it.  There is a bit of gas, but nothing else so far.  I hope it does okay for me because it is an easy dinner.  I came in and ate a few CC Cookies to supplement.  I’m not very hungry, which is a great thing as it’s keeping me from wanting this food that I cannot have.  I guess that I don’t even really miss the food that is there.  Maybe because it’s a buffet and a different ethnic meal set each night, and not the authentic Mexican food I love.  Either way, so far, on day 2, my Crohn’s is doing okay.

 

Mexico, June 22 (am)

Thankfully this morning we had a lazy time, where we could sleep in and get a nice breakfast.  Since the fruit had done well the night before, I knew it was okay for me to eat.  It might not be very exciting, but at least I know it won’t do anything to upset my system!  I decided to venture out and have some eggs with tomatoes, ham, and peppers in them.  There are unknowns in this that could cause problems, primarily the oil and the ham.  Mark and I tried to ask and figure out what the oil was, but we couldn’t get a satisfactory answer.  I know that olive oil is okay, so I just prayed that that’s the kind of oil they were using!  Thankfully, it seems that I’m doing fine, half a day later, so now I’m glad that breakfast is at least figured out. 

 After breakfast we all jumped in the vans to travel to the dump.  Literally, we are going to the areas right around the dump where people who work in the dump live.  The landscape slowly turns from the ritzy resorts to business areas to a long, dusty road.  We follow a truck filled with what looks like garbage, and I was glad that the van had good shocks so that we were not flung all over the interior.  This road is very bumpy. 

 Pretty soon we started to pass the clap-board houses that people who live around here erect.  We explained to the kids that the people just take whatever they can find from the dump and build a house.  It might be cardboard, or actually wood, or plastic, or old cloth.  Whatever can be used to create a passable structure is used.  Looking at these, one begins to wonder though how hot it is inside there and how on earth these “houses” could withstand any sort of rain at all. 

 As we passed we noticed a few kids in the dirty streets.  They waved.  Some had shoes on, some did not.  We saw some people sitting in the shade, not doing much of anything.  I asked our translator for some clarification on what it means that these people “work” in the dump, because in the US that would mean they have a paying job.  Not here.  Apparently, these people go in through the gate and sort things for recycling, but not for a wage.  The garbage trucks come in, and the people start digging through the trash.  They will take what they can sell and go and get what money they can for it, and this is how their family survives.  It was not stated, but I’m sure that they take clothes and food when they can find it too.  A stark difference from what we have in America, that’s for sure.  I’m glad my kids are seeing this, and hope that it makes a difference in their lives.

 We were not going to the School of Champions at this time, but another school that the local church helps.  We passed by the SofC though, and were very impressed with it.  It is hard to imagine that when The Rock Church first started coming down here there were people who actually lived in the dump, and kids would work there digging through the trash right along with their parents.  There was no running water for them then, and things were much worse than what I see right now.

 We turned onto the street where our school was located that we were going to.  The roads are dirt surrounding the area, and the houses are very basic, made mostly out of brick or cement blocks.  There is trash in the street, and dogs wandering aimlessly.  The school is basically a bare-bones structure with an 8-10 foot high wall surrounding it and basic stone buildings where the kids can go to learn.  There is a courtyard with two basketball hoops, a stone structure with faucets and clean water coming out, a kitchen, and lots of dirt.  There are a few trees, but there is no sight of grass or other green anywhere within the walls.  It looks very bleak. 

 I find out from our translator Veronica that in Mexico there is not the oversight that we have in the US public school system, and so many kids don’t go to school but instead help the family by working.  But if the school feeds the kids, their parents will send them to school instead of out making money.  If they are fed at school, the parents don’t need to worry about feeding them at home.  A lot of these kids belong to people who work in and around the dump.  Their life has almost nothing, and the future holds almost nothing.  At least in the school, they can be educated, get a bit of food and juice, and have time to just be kids.

 At first my 6 year-old son was very timid.  He just hid behind me for the first 20 minutes, unwilling to even say “hola” to the kids.  Pretty soon though I looked around and saw him playing with a bunch of boys.  Even though he couldn’t talk with them, he was smiling, and for that I was glad.  I want him to realize these kids are just like him.  My 7 year-old daughter of course had a bunch of kids around her, holding court!  She didn’t care much that she couldn’t speak Spanish.

 We handed out bread, and filled up cups with watery juice, and gave refills when we could.  The bread was day-old sweet breads and donuts.  It had ants and other bugs in it, and some pieces were moldy.  The kids didn’t care…it was food.  We played with the kids, and they had fun talking with us even though we couldn’t understand them.  Groups of them would surround us, all talking at once and smiling, and I had to just repeat over and over “No entiendo!” (I don’t understand!).  It was very confusing to try and follow the Spanish when 5 or more kids were talking at once!  We had fun though, doing what we could in interacting with the kids.  We serve as a source of distraction it seems from normal life for them, and I am glad to be that.  The gate to the school remained closed until it was time to go, and then they all ran off in preparation for another group to come.  I imagine that this school could be open 24/7 and still not serve all of the kids in need.

 Towards the end of our stay at this school one boy, Kevin, came up and asked me if I was going to teach English soon to the kids.  Apparently he thought I was there to do more than just serve food!  I told him that I didn’t know what our schedule was, and he seemed very disappointed.  He asked me again, and I had to say that I just didn’t know what we were doing so couldn’t say for sure.  Then I had an idea.  Since there was nothing else for me to do while we waited to leave, I asked in my halting Spanish if he wanted to learn right then.  His eyes got bright, he smiled big, and nodded a giant yes!  I started simple with “hat” and “shoes” and “tree” and all sorts of other things around us.  I would walk up to something and say, “Que es esto en Espanol?” (What is this in Spanish?).  I would then say, “En English, es…..” and tell him the word in English.  Pretty soon he and I were traipsing all around the courtyard where I would point to something, learn the Spanish word, and then teach him the English word.  Every so often I would come back to something we already learned and quiz him.  If he knew the word he came right out with it and was very proud of himself.  If he didn’t his eyes would go big, and he would haltingly try to guess the word.  It was quite fun, and I was amazed at how fast he picked up the English.  Neither he nor I wanted to stop, but pretty soon it was time for us to leave.  With the drive I saw in Kevin, I have no doubt he will do things with his life and escape this place.  The School of Champions I have no doubt will help him in this.

 We packed back up and drove to our 5-star resort.  We ate and drank all that we could at the buffet, of all sorts of wonderful fresh food, and then took off to cool in the pool.  Such a difference from what we just came from.  Tonight we go back to the SofC and hold church, and get to just play with the kids again.  I look forward to that.

 BTW:  Lunch I had the fruit again, and ventured into the stir-fry with chicken, carrots, broccoli, and peppers.  We’ll see how that does. 

 

Mexico, June 21

On Monday we flew in to Puerto Vallarta for our mission trip/vacation.  My whole family is very excited for this trip, but none more than my husband and myself.  We have traveled to Mexico before together, and have fallen in love with the culture and the people each and every time.  We have found the Mexican people down here to be full of life, passion, and love for their family.  Finally, we are able to bring our kids, and we know it is going to be an amazing experience.

 When we arrived at the airport it was a shock, for a moment, to see the people all clamoring for our attention.  I remember walking the streets of Tijuana and the endless people trying to catch your eye, but that was years ago and I had forgotten how incessant the noise can be.  I had also forgotten about the heat.  As we step off the plane and make our way to the outside, I can feel the heaviness and dampness in the air pulling at me, trying to slow me down.  It is probably only 80 degrees outside, but there is a good 80-plus percent of humidity.  When we vacation with family in the dessert, it can be 100 degrees or more, but it’s a hot, dry heat.  This is much different, and yet, I don’t mind it.  Even though I grew up in the Pacific Northwest with the endless wet and grey skies, this feels like home, deep inside of me.  It only takes me a few minutes to get used to the heat, and then I am fine.

There are 16 people total in our group, and it is a good mixed bag.  We have a few recent high school graduates, 3 kids ages 6-7, some people in their 20′s and 30′s, a family with a 14 and 17 year old, and one older gentleman.  I can’t catch names yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.  When we arrive at our resort, I am amazed.  We have never stayed at a resort in Mexico before.  We’ve either been our own tourists finding our own place to stay, or stayed at mission camps where you must wear shoes in the shower, put the toilet paper in the garbage, and not leave food on the floor for the cockroaches to eat at night.  This is much different, but it’s just what we need.  I love the fact that it is right on the ocean, and that you can hear the waves crash from almost any location.

In terms of my Crohn’s, I made some bacon-wrapped salmon skewers the night before and took those on the plane.  They served as breakfast, lunch, and a partial dinner for me.    Otherwise, I had Cinnamon Crunch Cookies and Lara Bars to eat while traveling.  I am being very careful because the last thing I want is to be taken out of this trip by having my Crohn’s flare up.

In the resort, the food at the buffet seemed fine.  Mark (my husband) said that the resort wouldn’t have such good reviews from the United States and all over the world if people kept getting sick!  Still, when we went for our first dinner, I had a moment of panic as I looked around at all the food.  My mind went blank, and I couldn’t remember what might be safe and what might not be safe.  I was lost.  Finally I remembered the “peeled fruit only” rule, and went with that.  Since I had had other foods for dinner, I simply stayed with pineapple, watermelon, and cantaloupe this first meal to see how it would do for me.  I’m very glad to see the fresh fruit here, and ultra-glad that I can still eat it! 

I did have a moment of sadness when we first got to the resort, and a few seconds of grieving that which I have lost.  I LOVE authentic Mexican food….the kind you can’t really find in the US.  I remember the last time we were here, and the freedom we had then:  the fresh sweet breads every morning, the coffee, the candy, the authentic tamales, tacos, and enchiladas…all of which were amazing, and real.  This time, I don’t have the ability to eat these things.  I don’t like this disease right now for all the foods I cannot eat while here.  But….I just have to shrug my shoulders and move on.  There really is no reason for me to cry over foods that probably will make me sick, but rather it’s just best that I enjoy what I can have.

Pretty soon it was time to put the kids to bed.  They were a little undone that they didn’t have any of their stuffed animals to sleep with, so I told them to snuggle up with their “pillow babies,” just extra pillows we had in the room.  It worked like a charm, and pretty soon they were fast asleep.  Mark and I wanted to touch base with each other, and so we quietly crept out to the deck to talk.

As soon as I stepped outside my heart did a happy sigh.  The night air was of course heavy and damp, but with a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean it felt like heaven.  The heavy rain clouds hovered above us and over the not-too-distant mountains, threatening us with a downpour.  Thankfully, it did not come.  The lights of the city played off the clouds, and the sounds of Mexican city-life filled our ears from all around us.  On top of all of that, the ocean was crashing on the beach just down the sidewalk from us, creating the perfect “white-noise” for us as we talked.  It was a magical moment in this magical land, sharing it with the one I love.

We talked for most of an hour.  Our conversation first centered upon how good it felt to be back.  The heat is nothing for us to deal with, and the rewards of the people and the culture far outweigh any comfort we might have lost.  After a while our conversation turned to something he had talked about with one of the men of our group, Pastor Bill.  Apparently, this man has a charge of healing on his life.  For some reason that he doesn’t even really understand, when he prays, people get healed.  Mark sat next to him on one of the flights down, and they talked a lot about this.  My husband and I both are not new to the faith, but in many areas we feel like we are just babes, scratching the surface of the knowledge God’s word holds for us.  It is our desire to learn more, and Bill was an open teacher. 

My husband and I talked about healing in terms of his diabetes.  Mark got his diabetes when he was 16 years old, and has lived with it for so long it is now just a part of his everyday existence.  His is Type 1, which means his pancreas makes NO insulin, and he must inject this into himself 4 or more times a day.  It is something that he can never escape because it hovers over his life each and every second of every day.  And yet, here he was, telling me about his talk with Bill and actually wondering what it would be like for him to NOT have this chain around him.  We talked about how sometimes God lets us have a “thorn” in our life, for a long time or just a short time, to bring about his plans.  They might be plans that we see in our own life, or in those around us.  Sometimes we might not see the fruition of his plan at all because it happens after we are gone.  But regardless, Mark knows that he was given diabetes for a reason, and one of those reasons was for him to be miraculously healed someday, and for his family to see that shocking event and finally realize the power that our God holds.  He doesn’t know the time for this healing, but he believes it to the innermost part of his being that God will bring this about.  I don’t know if it is to happen on this trip, but I agree with him in faith that it will happen at some point in time.

It got me to thinking….this whole healing thing.  I wondered out loud to my husband about my Crohn’s.  If someone walked up to me right now and asked if I wanted to get this disease gone, I am not really sure that my answer would be “yes.”  Of course I don’t want to live with this disease….who would want to have so much food withheld from them!  Yet at the same time, I believe God let me have this disease for a reason, and it feels in my spirit too soon for me to be healed of it.  He has a purpose in this, and I am still discovering that purpose.

I don’t know if that means I’m going to be healed or not, someday.  It just means that God is not done with this part of my life, yet.  He wants me to learn something through this, and I believe he has a ministry for me in this as well.  I’m just a babe starting out, and to take away this in an instant would cheapen, in my mind, what God wants to do in my life at this time.  I believe in His ultimate ability to take any disease away, but I also believe in God’s timing always being spot-on

So, yes I want healing, but no, I don’t feel the time is right.  I will wait, and I will dig further.  I believe that where I am right now with this disease is where God wants me.  Yet I feel that I can go deeper, and that’s what I took out of the conversation with my husband.  What else does God wish to do with my Crohn’s?  How else does He want to use it?  And how can I best pursue Him and his design through this? 

I don’t doubt the power of my God.  I’m going to be fine, both here in Mexico, and when we get home.

I look forward to seeing what He has next!

 

Mexico

We recently took a vacation/mission trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.  My initial intention was to write a simple journal about traveling with Crohn’s.  After the first day that we went out to serve, I realized that there was so much more going on that I wanted to write about, and the Crohn’s took a backseat.  I still have included what traveling with this disease was like, but in a very small way.  In the following pages I’ve written the story of this trip, and how my heart and eyes viewed this place for the very first time.

 When talking about this mission field, there is a powerful history that needs to be included.  I only knew the barest parts of this history before I left, and as the days passed in Mexico, I slowly learned the rest.  Instead of going back and correcting what I may have misunderstood in the early days, I’m leaving it as it is.  Captured within the words are the emotions I felt as I learned the magnitude of the story. 

 My hope in writing this is not that you, the reader, will want to sell everything to help the poor, and I don’t want to guilt you into doing something you don’t want to do.

 I simply think this is an amazing story of how one person changed the lives of thousands, and I hope it inspires you to do what you can, when you can, to help those around you.

 It may just be a smile to someone having a bad day.

 A little extra tip to the server who looks tired.

 Choosing to be happy instead of cranky when the line is too long.

 A gallon of milk bought for the mom behind you at the supermarket.

 Or any other small thing that comes to your mind.

 Life is tough for most of us these days.

 But in the small things done for others, we can find the joy we are meant to have.

 That’s my challenge.

 You are only one person.

 But what is it that YOU can do to change the world around you?