And the Vacation Begins...

Last night I said goodbye to the last team of the summer. Feeling exhausted, yet content, I drove home late with thoughts of vacation sugarplums already dancing in my head. I pulled up on the curb in front of my house, left the car idling and gracefully jumped out (I was wearing a dress) to unlock the sliding iron gate that borders our front yard. Our two dogs were whining happily in eager expectation of sniffing the tires of my jeep to see where I'd been. After I got them chained, I slid the gate open, only to have it get stuck a second later. I walked around the other side to figure out the problem. Our dogs were the problem. At the bottom of our iron gate, we have foot high panels of chicken wire held on by other wire to... why DO we have wire down there? Well, I didn't have time to contemplate the why. As of the last 5 months or so, our Dobermans have decided to dig a gigantic hole under this gigantic bush we have growing just inside the gate. Their belligerent digging has caused minor problems in the past with getting the gate open: huge rocks in the path or piles of dirt blocking the tracks the gate rides on. This time is was a bent-out-of-shape panel of chicken wire. For half an hour in very dim light, I tried pounding the darn thing back into place with a trowel we always have nearby to clear away other debris. It was too strong and I was too tired. I finally just lifted the gate off it's track and little by little moved it through the narrow opening. I rolled the car in, let the dogs off their chains, they sniffed the tires, I fell into bed.
So began my vacation week.
This morning I awoke (much earlier than I wanted to), had a leisurely morning starting a new book while drinking my first cup of vacation coffee. After a while I decided I needed to tackle the 'uh oh, the corrugated tube that drains the water from our washing machine to the great outdoors has holes in it and is now draining into our laundry room' problem. I took off the tube, looked at it, discovered the holes were made by voracious rats, and decided I could probably fix it with duct tape. Knowing we did not have duct tape, I nonetheless opened the 'kitchen drawer of randomness' in hopes God might have put some in there overnight. No such luck. However, I did spy a half-used tube of silicone that Amy and I had used to fix our front screen door a couple of months back. Desperation caused me to take out the knife. I shouldn't have done it. In the process of trying to pry open the top of the tube to perhaps get to some not-yet-dry plastic goo, I sliced open my left thumb. I quickly put it under running faucet water and cried. I knew I didn't have band-aids, so I wrapped it in paper towels, elevated my arm and thought about my mommy. Then I realized I had to get going to go meet my friend Daisy and go with her to the church's 'pulga' (yard sale) to buy clothes for the girls who live in El Callejon. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed my money, chained up the dogs and started to open the front gate. I then remembered I had not fixed the problem from the night before, I had just sort of worked around it. I studied the chicken wire praying it would miraculously disappear. It didn't. So, I decided to try what I did last night: lift up, push a little, let down. On the first go, one of the panels decided to come undone at one end. I undid the other end, ripped it off, pushed the gate open and then realized my thumb had opened up again and was bleeding all over the place. I think I said a bad word. I went back inside, got more paper towel, came back out, drove the car out onto the street, hopped out to close the gate and unchain the dogs. As I went to let Snickers off, he decided he might just want a bite of paper towel. I almost lost my thumb. I yelled at him, got in the car and took off.
In the ungodly heat of mid-morning, Daisy and I quickly went through the piles of kids clothes. "Erika. Noelia. Eh, Claudia, no, Kati, si, Kati." We held up clothes, trying to figure out who they'd fit. Fifteen minutes later I was back in my car and on my way into town to buy groceries and duct tape. The town was packed, there was no where to park, I may have said another bad word and then decided to go over to where my roommate is house sitting to see if they had any duct tape. After telling her my woes, I decided to go to the other market, park and walk around the corner to the one that sells the bread I like. It was sneaky, but I did it. Luckily the bread market didn't have the meat I wanted, so I actually did shop at the market I was parked in front of. I even bought a vacation bottle of grape soda. It would go great with the avocado, Camembert sandwich I was going to make on that yummy, crusty French bread I just bought. I started feeling better. When I got home, the gate slid open okay, Snickers didn't try to eat my hand and the pile of toothpicks that had gotten knocked over when I cut my thumb didn't bother me too much. I made my sandwich, popped in a dvd, and twisted the cap on my soda. Unbeknownst to me, it had rolled around a bit on the ride home and so proceeded to erupt all over my sandwich. They didn't go as well together as I originally thought.
I think I'm gonna go take a vacation nap.

Year in Review

I am not one of those people who is motivated by the setting of goals and accomplishing them. For me, success and fulfillment is measured by how many people I get to love. Today, as I celebrate my first year being on the mission field, thoughts of challenges overcome, everyday victories, and 'fruitful' seasons of ministry don't even come to mind. I don't care about these things. What I care about are the faces that are flashing through my mind as I think about my year in Jarabacoa. If it weren't for the people, being here wouldn't be worth it to me. So, here they are, the ones who have made a difference in my life and made being a missionary worth it (let it be known that many people aren't on here either because I don't have a photo or because my computer was too slow in loading!):

A Friend of the Bridegroom

"He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom's voice. Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase and I must decrease." John 3:29

John the Baptist was an influential man. Though he didn't dress, eat or act like 'normal' people, he was nonetheless respected and followed. The man had disciples and an incredible ministry. There John was, baptizing people who had heard his charismatic yet intense message and wanted to be changed, cleansed, prepared. People were traveling from all parts of Israel, even from surrounding nations to hear this prophet speak. His 'voice crying out in the wilderness' was convicting many people and he was seeing much success. Enter Jesus.
John can hardly contain himself. Excitedly he cries out to his followers: "Yeah! This is the guy I've been telling you about! You think I'm great?? I'm not even worthy to untie his shoelaces! He's the Lamb of God; he's come to take away all your sins! Follow him!"
Most of John's disciples took his advice and left his side to pursue the new guy. Some of the ones who stayed behind got together with some of their Jewish brothers, approached John and started tattle-telling on Jesus. "Hey, you know that guy, the one you were telling us about, yeah, well he's like taken over your job baptizing and everyone's following him now!"
I wish I had the same heart as John in this moment. Unlike me, this man was truly humble and not only knew his rightful place in the kingdom-- he rejoiced in it. He was just happy to hear his friend's voice. He knew that his specific ministry had been given to him by God and that it had been fulfilled. He let it go. I am more like those 'loyal' disciples that complained and whined.

Two days ago one of the American high school students who is here on outreach openly confessed for the first time years of sexual and emotional abuse she had endured under the roof of her mom's house. Stepfather, boyfriends, men parading in and out of her mom's broken life had all taken advantage of this precious girl. As deep, gut- wrenching sobs shook her whole body, the release of years and years of anger, fear and aloneness, I smiled in my heart and said, "Thank you, Lord, I can finally be used in the way I like best. " As I looked at the somewhat shocked and forlorn faces of the other 4 teens gathered around her, I rejoiced that all my years of training to minister to the broken could finally be put to use in this place. God had used me many times in the past to minister healing to the broken places of the heart. I was ready to share biblical words that would help restore. I was poised and ready to lay hands on her and speak mighty deliverance. What I was not ready for was the Holy Spirit to say, "Go get her some toilet paper to blow her nose and let the students minister to her."
What?????
After months of being in the hidden place with God, struggling to learn a new language, adapting to a new culture and not being able to use the gifts that God had let me use in the past, I was aching to minister in my own language, in a territory that is totally comfortable for me. My soul was clammering for the spotlight. But the Spirit would not let it be. I sat by in silence, handed her the toilet paper and watched these doe-eyed high schoolers get down and dirty with the love of Christ. They all hugged her, affirmed her and prayed mighty, encouraging prayers. I sat by silently and watched God build unity in the way that only He knows how to do. And though I was joyful that God had opened the door and had begun the healing process, part of me was like John's disciples saying, "Um, they don't know what they are doing. They aren't gonna do it right and she's not gonna get the complete oil change that she needs." I kept waiting for an opening when I could saunter in with my expert background in how to properly minister to those falling apart and there never was one. Praise God.
When God called John to prepare the way, he gave him quite a ministry. But when it was time for Jesus to take over, he sauntered into John's territory and-- took over. And that's what Jesus did with me. My job is to be in the place where God has called me. My job is to talk about Jesus and then just be there, standing by, hearing His voice as He saunters into my space and takes over.
Someone once told me that God was preparing me for a forerunner ministry. It sounds so exciting, you know, foraging ahead, fighting battles, proclaiming the name of the Lord, preparing the way for Jesus' return to earth. What I didn't take much time to consider was that a forerunner is just a nameless, faceless messenger who is sent in advance to prepare the way... yes through prayer and worship and battle and proclamation... but also one who must step aside once the King arrives. I am no one. A voice crying out in the wilderness. A forerunner's job is to know when to decrease and to truly rejoice when Jesus increases; when my tantalizing message about the profoundness of Christ becomes a living revelation to all those who've heard.
"...Yes, He is altogether lovely. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem."
"Where has your lover gone, most beautiful of women? Which way has your lover turned, that we make look for him?" (Song of Solomon 5:16-6:1)
The goal is to sing his praises and then watch as others turn to follow after Him. The goal is for them to stop listening to you and start being intimate with Him.
Prepare the way.
Decrease that He may increase.

Reflections on Love

He is worth it.

When He Steps In

What do we do when Jesus shows up in a place we kinda wish He wouldn't? This is a question sparked by our last week's staff Bible Study and I've been meditating on it ever since. The passage we studied was Luke 5:1-11. The fishing disciples had been out ALL NIGHT casting their nets, bringing up nothing. In early morning, they pulled back to shore, unloaded and were starting to clean their nets. Tired, probably hungry, feeling discouraged.
In walks Jesus. In walks 'multitudes' of people, invading your space. You're kneeling down, using a somewhat dull knife to scrape old smelly fish scales off your hands, when a shadow passes over you. Squinting, you look up and there hovering over you is this man you've heard about, slight in posture, browned by the sun, a sparse beard-- nothing noteworthy, yet who has a commading presence. He tells you He needs to use your boat. For some reason your body obeys. You and some of your mates step in with this familiar stranger and push off from shore a bit. People are thronging, grasping, calling out. The man in your boat starts to speak. A hushing silence on shore. The rumbling in your stomach fades into the sound of his voice, your heavy eyelids are no longer weighing you down. You are moved in some inexplicable way, his words rising and falling as the gentle waves lap against the side of your boat. Conscious that your God-fearing father is nearby fuming at the words of this--prophet? you massage your already arthiritic hands and contemplate what's being said.

Suddenly the crowd is being sent on its way, your hunger pains come back and your eyelids, once again, threaten early dreams. You are aching to leave, nay run, from this place, to find solace in the arms of a wife who hadn't heard. To bury your head under blankets that will lull away the change that has started to occur. But this man, this irrationaly rational man, turns to YOU and says, 'Push out for deeper water'. Frustrated, tired, confused...yet you set out. The man's silence unnerves you and you try with all your might to gain back all you know you just lost. You roll back your sleeves, puff out your chest, bark out a few orders to your friends. And then, this skinny, dark Hebrew man whose obviously never spent a night of fishing in his life tells you to cast your net. This is just too much. You look at him bewildered, angry and arrogantly remind him that you spent all night expertly fishing and there ain't a fish out there. Yet, because he said to, you'll do it. With aching muscles and disdain in your heart, you lift your freshly cleaned, heavy net over the side of the boat. What's happening? You start to lose your balance as your humble fishing boat starts violently thrashing around in the water. Help me lift! you cry out to your astonished co-workers. The once empty net, now breaking its seams with fresh catch barely makes it back into the boat. You fall down is astonishment and horror at the feet of this man, prophet, king. Get away from me!! I am sinful! Somehow your sinking ship makes it back to shore. Someone's counting how many fish there are. Your whole world is swirling around your head as your heart pounds its way out of your chest. The man speaks. "From now on I will make you a fisher of men."

What do you do when God steps into your reality, your job, your fatigue, your hunger, your ministry? What do you do when you have been working endless hours with no fruit, when you have moved on to other things, when you've made plans to sleep, to eat, to travel, to whatever... and the Holy Spirit says, "Hey, I need to use you for a little while longer. I need your job, your resources, your time, your energy, your strength, so that I can speak to these people invading your 'space'. And then after that, I want you to work some more in the area that isn't bringing forth finance, or fruit. In fact, I want you to leave this shore and the hope of rest and push out even farther than you were before. What's more, I want to break your pride and your self-sufficiency by showing you I can do what you spend your whole life doing, in about 2 seconds. And with the blessing of abundance that I bring to you, I'm going to change the course of your life and take you even further away from your comfort zone."

Just five minutes before our Bible Study started, I was sitting in a secluded area, trying to hold back tears of fatigue and frustration, angry at God for bringing me here, reminding him that I am an introvert who needs lots of quiet to create and refuel, telling Him that I can't take it anymore, fearing that if someone approached me in that moment they would see the sinful monster I really am. Knowing that I couldn't run home and hide under my blankets, I asked God for strength and grace just to make it through the next two hours. In dry obedience I worshipped in Spanish. The Holy Spirit commandeered my voice to sing praises to Him. And then this passage of Scripture...

The questions we were asked to answer were: What is your shore? What are the things that keep you from leaving shore? Once you do leave shore, what are the obstacles that keep you from continuing in obedience?
In my soul I cringed. My heart cried out, "Oh God! I am sinful!" Truly, truly, I cling to shore. I cling to comfort, I cling to dreams, I cling to my temperment, I cling to things I don't have. Once I follow, sometimes grudgingly, in obedience, my heart is often full of complaint, full of excuses, full of dread. I count the seconds until work is over. I fantasize about food, about sleep. I don't trust God.
Everyday my faith gets challenged. Do I really believe on Him? Do I really want Him to take over? Do I really think His ways are better than mine? When He enters my boat to do what He wants to do, do I rejoice? Do I welcome Him and pray that His Word saves the throngs of those listening? Do I with bright eyes, say "Sure Lord! Let's go do deeper waters and do the impossible?"
Usually not. But because of His faithfulness and love for me; because He knows me and wants better things for me, He continues to pursue me. He continues to climb in my boat and ask me to shove off into deeper water. Because He is confident in himself and knows that my tired, aching, weary self needs what He has; needs what He is.
He doesn't look at our weakness, our physical limitations, our talents or abilities. He always sees who we are in Him and loves to bring the natural into the supernatural. When we are broken down and at the end of our rope, He sees the door opening for miraculous opportunity.

May God reach into you, into those places that you believe you still own, grab hold of your heart and take you into uncharted waters where eternity meets the temporal and magic happens.

The Way it Went

March 2008, a record month. A visit from my roomate's family, two short-term ministry teams, murals, signs, a move to another location, lots of donuts, 4 amazing interns...
As I sit here in my jammies on this bright Saturday morning, body exhuasted from going going going, and think back on this last month, all I can see is a swirl of colors.
A high school team from Jupiter, Florida flew in on March 8, initiating my official role as 'outreach staff'. Francisco and I hosted 4 uniquely diverse teens for a week and a half at the art school. This would be the last team to enter those doors. We painted murals at the new Special Ed school, we played with kids and did an art project in the squatter community of El Callejon, we went to the local park to draw and ended up making friends with some of the shoe shine boys. And on our last day we cleaned the new art school. Yes, it's true, we have moved to a better, brighter, cleaner and less expensive location. God really answered our prayers and gave us more than what we had asked for. We live above a family and have turned the upstairs of their house (a 2- bedroom, 1-bath, living room, dining room, sitting room, patio and balcony--accessible only by an outdoor staircase) into the most beautiful art school. Our students LOVE it and so do we.
My second team of the month was from San Luis Obispo, CA!!!!! God really blessed me big time by bringing a team from my home county. They were here for only a week, but we had a blast putting together the new art school, painting signs for our Special Ed school, face painting in El Callejon and drawing in the park. We ate lots of ice cream and donuts and dove into the deep things of God with Francisco. I was reminded of the beauty and authenticity of Central Coast culture and was refreshed by their presence. This month has been so reaffirming in my call to be here and it has been redeeming as well. The last eight months have been good, but really tough for me. The language barrier has been especially difficult because I so love to share one-on-one on deep levels. This month, and in this last week especially, I have been able to be totally myself and to share from the heart. Thank you, Father.
April will be a bit slower for me as I have no teams coming to my site. I am taking April to get some medical testing done, hopefully get my car fixed, host my mommy for a week and attend a staff retreat. May 5 starts the oncoming tidal wave of summer teams. We will have 7 two-week teams back to back.
I am asking for specific prayer regarding a health issue I am dealing with. Getting testing done down here is better than it could be, but it's definitely not like in the states. I get easily overwhelmed by the whole process. Thanks be to God, He sent a recent medical school graduate, and now friend, to help me walk through a bit of the process. He is writing a list of tests he thinks I need to get done based on the symptoms I have described. Please pray that whatever is going on will be discovered quickly and accurately diagnosed.
"Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be the glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen." Eph. 3:20,21

Day at the River

This has been a mellow time, a calm before the storm so to speak. In two weeks we will have teams coming down from the States to work with us which means I am about to get busy busy busy. I've been enjoying the 'down' time, though there is much preparation involved.
This last weekend I went to Salto Jimenoa, one of our waterfalls, with my roommate Amy and her family who is visiting and with Andrea, one of the missionary 'kids' (she's 19 now, but has lived here almost 6 years). It was a gorgeous day and it felt good to take a leisurely walk and rest by the water.
Here are some pics:

my roommate, Amy

Andrea and me