Muddy Car Adventures

I actually had my car washed...but you can't tell. Probaly in his (Isaac's) entire life time he's never had that much mud on him.

It was six hours of tiny roads filled with potholes through scenery that looks like what I imagine heaven will. Mountain-top views every half hour and then these passages of ivy twenty meters high, drapping down. Breath-taking.

In part, I think I'm made for the village-life. It smells like leña (firewood cackling) and kids run through mud barefoot and everyone's door is open all the time. To measure this truth, I ate five tamales and drank three cups of coffee within a few hours at seven different homes.

Almost all the jokes made at my expense as I tried to make tortillas and knead its' dough, were incomprehensible to me but you only need to understand the twinkle in one's eyes for that. The wonderful young people who took us hiking are just like me...they live in a third culture trying to mix two...and really they're ¨ruined¨ for either one. It was just good.

I'll take a muddy car and be one very tired camper anyday for all that.

Into Your Arms

I'm not crazy about kids.

In my blunt confession I feel like good friends who before believing in Christ started all their comments with, ¨I am an atheist.¨ We all knew it was more for their own benefit than our own. Now, we laugh with them.

So, like I said, I'm not crazy about kids...but they do these things that are so darn cute.

I was detailing what Joseph's life was like as a slave and when I asked for a recap on the story one kid boldly stated, ¨Joseph was a man who cleaned up camel poop.¨

We learned about Moses and then painted the lovely princess caring for him just out of his river basket. One boy gently painted the scene and then a few fish...the fish started fighting...there was soon blood and before I could grab the paint brush the blue sky turned to red and the once gentle scene had been devoured. Okay, maybe more Goth than cute.

At church this Sunday our guest preacher left us all impacted. There was a holy silence. A girl whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear, ¨You're right, he does talk a lot.¨ All the reverence in the room turned to laughter.

But of my favourite things, one of the top ten is kids running into your arms. They boogie down the street and then sail into your arms. And then...snuggle their head into your shoulder.

Priceless. In an instant you forget about admin details and worrisome issues and the to-do list looming over your head. Just priceless.

Choir Girl

Alas, I have made a lot of fun of those who join choirs and perform their art in white robes. Yes, I have ridiculed it as a waste of time and precious air. However, I now find myself whipping through traffic to sing Sunday afternoons.

Go ahead, laugh.

The strangest thing happened to me after falling asleep Sunday. I kept waking up with a joy song going through my head. ¨Joy that sustains wherever you are, comes from the Father in heaven....¨ It was too cool, like being in love and not being able to sleep through the night.

I was actually quite touched. It was like God was singing over me while I slept and then woke me up every now and then to remind me.

So, still not a fan of the white robes and probaly a little less fanatical than others but totally in awe of how much He loves us.

Precious Life

So one of my closest friends went into labour two months early last week. We all held our breath as little Zara entered the world in such a fragile state with pneumonia.

We prayed and lost sleep and called one another constantly. Hoping and waiting. I even got mad at God that an infection had invaded her wee little body.

That all changed when my friends asked me to use my pastor credentials to visit her in intensive care. And I thought that card was only good for book discounts...

It was absolutely precious. Zara and I held hands (her hand is the size of my pinky) while I talked to her and I started to pray she closed her eyes even more shut. Her tiny little chest heaved up and down. We adopted a song as auantie and niece,

¨This peace that I got, it isn't 'cuz all is well. This peace that I go, is 'cuz I follow the one who is faithful. So I won't look at the circumstances, oh no. I'll be looking at his love...¨

As I left she puckered her lips as if to kiss me good-bye.

¡Happy Un-Birthday!

We were belting out the happiest un-birthday song possible which was followed by un-hugs and un-birthday blessings and an un-cake...ahem, a real cake. Let's not joke about chocolate. Alas, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon.

I smile thinking about the amazing young people in our budding church, La Fuente.

A few weeks later I was grasping for words in my Otomi language class, my newfound hobby. Oh...wait...How do you say ¨Happy Birthday?¨ I asked.

Silence filled the room. People looked back and forth at each other and then...laughter. Finally someone explained to me that in Otomi you don't have a birthday. They continued giggling and jabbering on about me in a language still very foreign.

I smile thinking about my amazing friends...who think I'm crazy.

Un-birthdays. Gotta' love 'em. Makes you want to enjoy each day a wee bit more.