Posts Tagged ‘ missions ’
Reynerio also asked about Uncle Sek Yee. I told him he & his wife are in China for six weeks, having prayed over it now that their youngest is in college. Reyno asked me to say hey for him, & be sure to update him on USY every year I come back.
can i go home?
can i go home and sit in the dirt with my children and let humberto take pictures with my camera and carry maria everywhere until my limbs give out but her wrenching eyes ask for more?
can i go home and work beside reyno and faustino and más tar every roof we put up and take 10x longer than he does to pound in nails?
can i go home and help rosie express her gratitude to the american teams when the language barrier simply contributes to her natural shyness?
can i go home and walk up to a counter to order tacos de asada con poquito de picante para llevar and bring them back to eat while chuito serenades us with praise songs?
can i–
can i go home?
can i go home and commiserate with tamasa over her family and ask about little neri and tell her about all the sibling pairs that have come with my team?
can i go home and share forever with reynerio stories of life and God and glory and the people and places and things we’ve known? can’t i be lifted up, both physically and spiritually/emotionally, every time i see him every day?
can i go home and live in the tongue that sounds not from my motherland, but from my heartland?
can’t i? might i? i will, though, one day, won’t i?
en el cielo está preparándonos un hogar eterno.
until then, may my mind hold fast against the lies that here is less, that i am lacking, that this small time and place will last in languishing–and may it hold fast to the stories and prayers and lives that cradle pieces of my scattered heart.
until then, may my heart be daily stretched the hundreds of miles to my home church and REACh family, on southward to Maneadero and the houses and communities that mine own hands have hammered and sanded love into.
until then, may my hands be daily blessed with the strength love support my life has known, entwined with so simply so many.
until then, may my life be His light to whomever wherever whatever He gives me.
but until then,
until then, i know, i will still ask:
can i go home, Daddy?
can i go home and have tamasa’s tamales?
I’ve caught something. Yesterday suddenly after dinner I got the pain in the back of my throat that usually means a sore throat soon. And sure enough, I knocked out way early last night and woke up this morning with said sore throat.
Normally my immune system can handle anything you throw at it, but it’s also that periodic time where I am a little weaker, and the mosquitos probably wear my body down even more.
I hate being in business while traveling, especially at camps/retreats & México trips. Hate it. This has long been a moot point of contention, but still–why, God? Why.
I didn’t write an update reflection yesterday morning because Reyno (Pastor Reynerio) came upstairs to check in with me & we just talked. That man–that pillar of faith & rock of God–has been a personal hero & friend of mine since 2007. I have learned so much from him, been counseled & uplifted in so many ways. It never fails to gladden my heart to see him.
He wants to come to my graduation in May.
Tinho Skyped me last year the day the mission team arrived when he saw Reyno so we could talk, & he said he’d be in LA in January. I told him just to say when & I would see him if I too was in socal then. It never happened, & it turns out that he had extra difficulty getting a visa due to his prior convictions in drugs & arms smuggling. He did get a 3-day permit to be in San Diego, where he talked to a judge about his case. He’s sent multiple letters to the necessary authorities about this, & plans to send another to Washington presenting his case for a pardon. I told him if he needs anyone to testify to his new character & ministerial work I would gladly do it.
In any event, he couldn’t manage his visiting trip to LA, but he said that he expects he should be able to get his papers in order this year, especially that by May it should be alright. He wants to come to my graduation.
We talked also about Cuba, where he has friends who have to meet secretly in mountain caves to worship. They smuggled in Bibles once, in crates with beans & rice & oil covering the prohibited goods. Most of them passed inspection, but one was particularly large, & the border guards found the Bibles underneath. They then asked, “what can we do for you such that you will let us pass?”
“leave us a crate of oil & of rice,” they replied.
So the smugglers gladly did–a small price, to them, in exchange for having the precious Palabra de Dios.
He mentioned also a missionary friend he has here, from North Korea, where he used to have to walk six hours one-way every day to pray in secret.
This came after I mentioned that I had yet to be hired for next year, & if I don’t have work then, I would like to take some time off, either here in Maneadero (this he immediately endorsed) or back in Hong Kong. So he asked me how is Hong Kong, & the church situation there and in China. I told him Hong Kong was full of churches, but in China proper they are much stricter.
Tinho came upstairs partway through our talk & afterward I briefed him on it. He said it would also be worthwhile (maybe more worthwhile) to write to Sacramento as well, since the governor can also issue a pardon, assuming his crimes were in California.
I can’t imagine Reyno at my graduation. In the crowd as I walk across the Greek Theatre stage with the College of Engineering Class of 2013. I would, of course, have Tinho find & sit with him. And they would cheer together for me, my brother and my father and my pastor de México–three of the dearest men in my life.
Ojalá que sí, pueda pasar eso. Por la gracia y el poder de Dios.
I slept outside on the benches of the balcony last night (Wednesday night), because that puppy Bela has adopted me & my sarape. I wanted to stretch out my stiff muscles before bed, so brought my bankie out to the balcony. The moment I laid it out, she promptly plopped herself onto the far end & knocked out shortly. After everyone went inside to bed, though, I didn’t have the heart to kick her off her adopted doggy bed; instead, I sprayed myself & my sleeping bag with bug spray, dragged my sarape & its sleeping pup pup over to the bench, & spent the night on 8-inch-wide boards.
I’ve had worse nights, though (Firenze–>Venezia), & honestly if I went back I’d probably do it again. She smells, & she scratches herself suspiciously, & she does what she wants, wandering out with us at will, but something about the trust and affinity this dumb dog shows me has got a little piece of my bleeding heart. So I bought extra sarapes today such that I could have mine to myself again. Kind of. She still sits on mine whenever some edge of it touches the ground.
I brought one of my new blankets to campfire tonight, & she spent most of the time contentedly curled up on it by the bench. How this dog has daily touched me, I cannot yet even put into words. How uncomplicated is her abandon in places of safety! How simple and steadfast her faith in her providers! How unlike me, this created creature that we would immediately look down upon!
How unlike me.
And the things that I would do for this puppy… I hadn’t intended to buy anything at the Bufadora today, but my dead-broke self dropped some pretty pennies for blankets for her to curl up on. I spent the night outside in the mosquito-infested Mexican night, balanced on a bench narrower than my body, keeping her, well at home on my sarape, company. What is love–what love is this?
And o how love propels. How love propels both man and beast–
and how love propels my Father God.
I think I have exhausted what I can as yet express that just knowing and loving this dog has taught me. Good night.
God gave me this, from “The Love of God”:
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
It’s nearly 0830 already on Monday & usually I like to be up early in México to gather & debrief myself before the day begins. Before the rush & bustle pushes the beauty of serenity and the wonder of God’s work from mind.
We’re leaving for Day One onsite at 0900. I’m running a little late.
Last night I woke up around 0330 with stomach/intestinal pains & cold, clammy skin–something I never recall happening here before. I spent a good chunk of time thereafter on the toilet… I’m a little scared, frankly, to go down for breakfast today because of this. But not eating in the context of construction labor followed by rambunctious children is probably not a good idea.
In reflecting a bit on my yesterday, certainly a theme was that God works beyond my speech, beyond what I say. That my God is bigger than mis faltas–my faults & lacks & failings. That I am imperfect and inadequate, but that’s why His glory is shown.
I have two instances to illustrate, but I should get up & get dressed first. Maybe full story later.
Last night was one of those nice nights, though: the ones where friends (to any varying degree of closeness) sit & talk and the conversation was real. Bryan & I traded scarring experiences while Kevin’s question about Jon’s major led to a testimonial…. And to end the night I told them why I have three brothers in socal, but only one by blood.
I love those kindsa nights.
i meant to write a short exclamatory post two months ago when i told my pastor (Pastor Mo) that yes, i would like to go to México this year, and–though i couldn’t attend a single meeting or training–do you think i could?
so i am. i’m going. we leave in less than 5 hours.
first stop: San Diego, where we’ll have our Last Supper (lunch) at In-N-Out (fine, fine choice. i am of the opinion that all retreats & STMs should end with In-N-Out.), meet the mission center leaders & any other teams serving with us, then troop south of the border.
meaning sometime within the next 16 hours i’ll be home again.
not that you would be able to tell, but i’m tearing up even as i write this and i think about homecoming after two years.
i’m writing my IV’13, CCF, freshman year Kairos, REACh, EBAC, & apartment family an email update/prayer request about this right now. i’ll post it when i’m done.
but for now, here’s that line i never dropped in June saying hey!– i’m going home.
Ensenada Thursday
[I’m pulling after-the-fact rights to separate Thursday (barring its beginning – see below) from the rest. Shorter posts hooray!]
Thursday of this trip will forever remain a cherished gemory (ooh, clevar!) of mine.
The extension’s roof’d been an issue because of the main unit’s orientation: we weren’t expecting it to face the neighbors instead of the street, making an extension of the A-frame impossible. Reynerio was our beast roof guy, I heard, pounding in paper & spreading down tar faster than our guys could keep up (MÁS TAR!).
It was overcast again. After the Hilltop crew visited us I took pictures on the roof & made caulking jokes with Jon & Chris. Reyno arrived, & after circular-sawing roof planking like it was butter, turned once toward his church & shooed a troop of children from the stairs. I asked him who they were. He paused for a moment & said oh yeah, yeah you know them: Humberto & Carlos &–
“¿Joana?”
“Sí, Joana still lives over there”
Oh. Em. Gee. I hustled my butt off the roof & bounced in front of Pastor Theo with yearning & excitement: “can I go see my children? Please please they’re over there by the church next street over please?”
Cut to explanation:
Last year we worked on the second floor of Reyno’s church, mudding, sanding, painting, & moulding. We made friends with the kids: Humberto lent us electricity via extension cord from his & Joana’s house next door, & they would come up to watch the work. Eventually, we busted the stereo out & Tinho fed it MJ. The kids love MJ apparently. & when my bored brother busted some moves, the fans went wild. We played with them, gave them water & piggyback rides, even patched up María when she fell. Humberto took most of my México’09 pictures, & unlike other children behind a lens, took decent pictures of an array of subjects. Thanks to him I have some darling pictures of myself.
Anyway back to 2010:
I ran around the row of houses & on approaching the house asked Humberto (aka Changi) hanging outside, “¿Está mi Joana aquí?”
He laughed, & pointed behind me to a quiet girl I barely recognized. I turned, she came to me, I scooped her up & exclaimed at how much she’d grown! María, shy as ever, followed behind her, & thus began the best few hours of my week.
I did no work on the site that day, because after saying hola & taking pictures at the church I brought Joana, María, & Changi over to see the site. We held piggyback races in the street & took more pictures of & at the site until lunch, when I bid them adios.
There really are no words for the preciousness of this gift from God–that even though I spent my VBS week in Durango with Ricardo’s church, I was still afforded the grace of this morning with my kids.
That afternoon, we pulled Chris & Simon for VBS. The skit was Peter’s growth from fisherman to disciple to church leader. Suffice it to say that Middle took to playtime faster than Big:
Thursday nights are Poblano’s nights! Mi amigo Josué & I pooled our given resources for lots of delicious. Two blessings about this dinner:
1) as I stepped up to order, so did Reynerio. He proceeded to insist on tortillas grandes & heaping ingredients for us. When we opened the befoiled plates up, it took us a minute to separate & distinguish the tacos. Reyno loves me.
2) the rside boys & I brought our Poblano’s goodies back to the mission center (right behind the taco stand) to avoid the sheer exploding capacity of the place. Chuy was in, & somehow after some chatting & joking he picked up a guitar. We ate like royalty–Poblano’s together accompanied by our own Méxican serenade. I couldn’t’ve imagined it better; my God loves me.
Of all the years I’ve been home & back again, forced abruptly to readjust to Stateside life, this morning-after was, well, the best of times and the worst of times:
Friday night I didn’t sleep but maybe twenty total minutes of winks, so by Saturday evening the only sleep I’d had was the two-hour drive from Mission Central to the border, where I awoke to commemorate the inception of another year away from my heart’s home.
I crashed on the couch downstairs sometime before 10:30, during a lull in my IM conversations.
I awoke in a haze to first notice an asian boy in a blue shirt walking by. Oh, Chris Tai, I thought. Then I registered that behind him the scene was my living room. …wait. What is Chris Tai doing in my house?
“I’m leaving,” the boy in blue says, and I realize, Oh, that’s my brother. He’s going to school to give his Mexico presents I guess. Summer school starts early. I roll back over.
About ten minutes later, I get up for real, remember that computer is still on, and go to check that. I’ve been online a few minutes when my phone rings. I think, well it’s a good thing I’m already awake, or that would’ve woken me up.
I check my phone: Pepe. Why is Kevin calling me?
“What’s up”
“Hey, where are you? Are you at home?”
“…yeahh.”
“Well your brother’s here. Are you coming?”
Here? Where’s here? Why do I–OHMYGOSH IT’S SUNDAY. Eff I thought it was Monday AUGH I HAVE WORSHIP TEAM AHHHH
“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be there.”
I hang up, check my phone again, and sure enough, it’s 8:20 on Sunday. I was supposed to be at church twenty minutes ago.
I hit the keys to hibernate my computer, close the lid, and run upstairs to my room.
I’m in shorts. I can’t wear those to church, much less for worship team. Jeans jeans where are my jeans I haven’t worn them in a week where did I leave them.
I pull my jeans on, run downstairs, smash the garage button only to watch it reveal a van behind my car, blocking my way out.
I run back upstairs, bursting into my parents room: “I need to leave!”
My mom pushes my dad out of bed: “Oh oh oh she needs to leave! Move the car!”
I peel out of my driveway at 8:29.
I hit 80 on my way up empty Sunday morning streets to church. It takes me nine minutes until I pull into our parking lot.
Ladies and gents, I’m back from México.
Note: my brother would later assert that as he told me he was leaving, his facial expression said, “…and you should too.” I was not, at that moment, mentally capable of registering his face.
Ensenada Day 6 – Friday
I mega overslept yesterday so I didn’t get to reflect on Wednesday in the morning. I woke up to cvan saying “Kawi we’re leaving in 10 minutes!” rolled over, hit my iPod, & read 8:46. Well EFF. It was like dorming all over again, stumbling out to the bathroom. I was downstairs at 8:56. Which might be a personal record of sorts. Josué is wonderful & produced a banana from his backpack for me in the car.
Thus began my Thursday.
A little about Wednesday, though:
Bufadora in the morning resulted in a mini-sarape for my apartment + mariachi sombrero ($22 for both), large green sleeveless poncho ($25), two conch shell trumpets (200 pesos for both), & a hooded sleeved black/grey poncho ($30). Only the sarape is for me–sombrero for Tinho’s friend, ponchos for Tinho & Jon Mathew respectively, conch trumpets for Kev & Tinho.
“Aww” moment of the day:
when the Tais sat to take a picture with a white tiger cub. Families are so cute.
That afternoon, Jesus died. For VBS we pulled Josh & Pastor Wayne.
Making my way around Durango rounding up kids for the escuelita (mini-school) at the church, I came to the yellow house at the far corner & found two little girls peeking out from behind the door, holding it ajar. When I invited them to come out, shaking her head slowly one said no–no, we can’t because our dad doesn’t go to church & doesn’t want us to go either. We already go to school on our own.
Well, I said, if you wanna come by later we’ll have snacks & toys after & you can just play with us.
They nodded, and I turned to the road, away from the yellow house with the green roof at the very corner of the neighborhood. That house is only two years old. I know because I helped build it in the summer of ’08, beside Fritz’s South Carolina group, and it broke my heart to hear that the family was no longer coming to church. I wanted to tell them this, to find that father & say, “this very church gave you that house. I put up your drywall–my hands hammered this frame together–I still have paint from your eaves & trim on one of my shirts. Give us a chance: we spent over a week raising the roof over your head; just let us play with your vacationing children.“
I just smiled & waved & told the girls we’d be there all afternoon.
[edit: this is being continued some 5+ months after]
The Passion skit that day had the unfortunate effect of inciting the children at playtime to specifically roughhouse Miguel, exclaiming “¡Jesús! ¡Jesús!” Whoops.
I found this playtime especially adorable in Josué’s transition from hesitance to avoidance to full-blown participation: he was okay holding hands with the kids we picked up, but balked when capuches were demanded later. Smart kid even resorted to turning the jumprope in order to turn away the clamor of upstretched arms. Cute.
The Durango children somehow always rope us into Capuche Time, however, (Pastor Tony had an especially delicious time running roughshod over the rest of us using the excuse of the child on his back) & mi amigo Josué was no exception. I have a picture of his first capuche. It was all downhill from there.
Corazón Completo 