Seed of a Vision

Nato squirms and smiles, trying really hard to pay attention as I slide another popsickle stick up from behind my hand. "Ahora, cuántos son?" I ask, hoping this time he'll remember that four comes after three, not five. "Uno, dos, tres, cinco, siete. . ." Haha. Well, we'll give it another try.

A few months ago, Kirsty and Oscar, the couple that heads up the Homes of Hope department here, got the vision to begin working with the kids in a colonia outside Ensenada. What began as a soccer game and coloring sheets every Wednesday afternoon has developed into parachutes and 3 different tutoring groups (not that we cut out the soccer game ; ). I'm excited to see where God takes this ministry! Check out a few of the pics!

View of the valley from the cement slab that we do kids' ministry on- many families in this colonia and the surrounding area are migrant workers from down south. As you drive through the area, you can see fields of vegetables and huge tents where tomatoes are grown and packed.

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Kirsty points to the animals on the card and has the boys count with her. She and I work with the youngest group of children-four to five little boys each week between the ages of 4 and 6. Right now, we're working on teaching numbers up to ten.

My friend Nato tries to pay attention but there's just so many more interesting things you could do with the popsickle sticks! But with his big eyes and toothy smile, it's hard to stay irritated for very long ; ).

Josh and Caleb perch on the rocks to work with the oldest group of children while Oscar helps a new kid sign up. We try to get a little info from each child and then visit their parents, explaining our heart for their child and beginning to build relationships with the whole family. Some of these kids are from families that we've built for in the last couple months.

Montse and Cole work with the middle group of children. The lesson of the week is how to tell time. Montse and Kirsty spend hours each week coming up with new ideas and cutting out and laminating the materials for each group. Uno is one of the children's favorite games- we like it because they learn numbers and practice their colors!

Our group of wiggly, eager learners and a couple volunteers, Abby and Katie. After going over lessons for as long as the kids (and teachers ; ) can handle, we clear the cement slab and play a game of soccer. And in case you were wondering, yes, half the kids are way better at handling the ball than I am! Thankfully, everyone's welcome at Kids' Ministry, even those of us who can't kick a ball straight!

When Isabel met Olivia

From above our heads, hammers ring loudly through the thin, water-splotched walls, mixing delightfully with the teasing and busyness bouncing around me as I try to help prepare lunch for the team outside. Just a few feet from the kitchen door, sheet rock, electric wiring, window trim, and shingles are somehow managing to fit together into a new house. Around the crowded table in the old house, onions, batter, fresh fish, and cactus will soon be mouthwatering fish tacos with all the trimmings. Between slices of cucumber, I enjoy watching the three women I'm working with interact. You can tell they've known each other for awhile- for all the teasing, Isabel is undisputedly the one in charge. In her late fifties-early sixties, she's had a lot of practice leading at her 7 day/week job supervising vegetable packing at some of the farm operations, the huge white tents just tiny specs in the valley below the build. Her eyes are warm and deep, her face telling a hard story. But she's a survivor- not the bitter type, but the one who's chosen reserved, dignified gratitude to a new-found Jesus. The kind of person who has your respect in the first few minutes of a conversation. And her friend, Irene, is all braids, honesty and exuberant life. Easily letting Isabel call the shots, but not afraid to shush her fretting and make her relax.She's the one who let me in on my favorite discovery of Mexican cooking- fish taco batter comes in a Just Add Water mix, available at any supermercado! And their third friend, who's name escapes me, adds a little quiet sweetness to the blend, trying to let me feel like I was actually helping.

Just as the cooking crew of the day is special, so is the team outside. John and Jane Ray have been part of our Ensenada family for years (even if they actually live in Arkansas), blessing us with their caring hearts, love, and expertise on responsible support raising and how to do it (Jane is the one I mentally beg for forgiveness from when I get lazy about keeping up this blog!) This summer, I got to meet their daughters for the first time (because I'm newer to the base than they are, not the other way around). Sadly, I never got to meet their youngest, Olivia, who died in a car accident last fall. This team is made up of people from different parts of the country who love Olivia and her family. It's in her memory that they are here, representing a whole community of people who gave financially to make this and three other houses possible so far. And despite having a good time and working hard, I can sense the seriousness with which they work. This house isn't just about feeling good- it's about love.

For the Olivia's Basket team, this home is an extension of their love for one little girl. And I know Isabel and her family felt that love deep down.

 The fish tacos were a huge hit (I believe I ate four myself), barely a scrap left over in the aftermath of bowls on the kitchen table. And a few hours later, as the keys to Isabel's new home are being passed around and each person has a chance to share his heart, I sense something that I'm just now putting into words. I may never have met Olivia Ray, but I think Isabel and her family did that weekend. I think they understand who Olivia was everytime they walk through the door of their home. And even more, they understand a God who collects our tears in a bottle and refuses to waste our pain.

Isabel's grandchildren and friends play follow the leader- the 4 yr. old in pink takes after her grandma's management skills. Isabel's husband, Ramon, watches quietly from the background.

Haley carefully paints a sign with Isabel and Ramon's family name to hang on the outside of the finished house. Go, Haley!

The aftermath of fish tacos and ensalada de nopales (cactus salad) for 30 people. Good times!

Jane's fabulous instructions for the paint crew adorn the corner of the port-a-pottie.

Impromptu soccer games are always hit in any Mexican neighborhood, especially since school's out for the summer.

This lovely young woman is doing an excellent job of painting the interior. Notice the drywall cutting going on behind her. Multitasking is the bottom line of getting a house done in a day and half.

During the dedication of the house, Isabel's sister and friend both thanked us for blessing her with a home. From the amount of tears shed in English and Spanish, I don't think that Isabel was the only one blessed by this outpouring of love.

Not So Ordinary

I’m pretty sure it started with the bed bugs. Yeah, there actually is such a thing. They like to come out at night and bite poor, unsuspecting high school girls down in Mexico on their first mission trip. Did you catch the first part: at NIGHT. Like say, about 1 a.m. just as you’re brushing your teeth and giving yourself a lecture about staying up too late. But another room, bunch of sleepy girls, an empty bottle of raid, a fumigator, and 15 bags of laundry later, I think we’re beginning to get on top of it. (Although unless someone else is more on the ball than me, there’s still several bags of bedding sitting next to the frozen veggies in the walk-in freezer- turns out bedbugs don’t like cold weather any more than I do).


Just the way I planned on starting my week. And it’s kind of set a trend for how the rest of the week’s gone.


Take today, for example. I’m in one of the guest rooms, wiping the bathroom floor for the third time because that’s what happens when Caleb is trying to fix the sink and I’m trying to clean the room for tomorrow at the same time. Just as I’m sticking the cleaner back under the sink and standing up, I hear water running. So naturally, I test the faucet to see if we’re all good for tomorrow. No water comes out. Yet, I still hear water gurgling. Opening the cabinet door, I find water spurting out of the pipes. Not quite a water hydrant but definitely a fountain. Panic hits as my mind pictures water puddling all over the room (this is while I’m sprinting down the stairs and manically pushing buttons on my pager thingy). And yet again, four bath towels, one Caleb, a few helpful volunteers from the rehab center, and another pass over the floor later, the room is ready for tomorrow.


Afternoon comes, and my friend Shelby and I combine our shopping trip for hospitality supplies (yes, my parking job was amazing even in a 15-passenger van- at least the first time) with blizzards from Dairy Queen. When she got here a couple weeks ago, I was the first to introduce her to DQlandia (ironic, huh? Kansas girl introducing California girl to DQ in Ensenada, Mexico). Since she’s headed out tomorrow, we took our break with a blizzard and a conversation about life (which was actually better than the blizzard).


My day is looking up, especially as me and a couple friends start toward Centro in a borrowed car to get our hair trimmed- mine’s needed it for like 4 months. A couple miles from the base, I get a call that the team that got in a couple minutes ago has 2 more people than anticipated and therefore don’t fit in the room I assigned to them. Thankfully my friend/ ministry team leader was at the base to handle the situation, so I told them to hang tight and I’d figure it out when I got back. Which was dinner time. By that time, Gemma had creatively rearranged people and we ran around trying to make sure beds were made for the guys that were going to be staying in the team’s new second room (as Gemm’s husband shows the guys around the base).


In the middle of the craziness, I hear my name across the courtyard and am nearly knocked over as 3 of my favorite little Mexican girls try to give me bear hugs at the same time. I was one of the staff that took DTS students to their parents’ soup kitchen every week last fall, and since then, we occasionally get to play when their daddy comes to fix the frequently broken washing machines and fridges on base. So as soon as the last bed is made and I’ve had time to microwave my dinner, we sit and talk about how Irahi and Maya want to be in YWAM (maybe in a decade, girls), Berenice playing peek-a-boo from underneath the table.


And even now, I shake my head and smile at the same time. Because weeks like this week drive me crazy. And I love it. I found out I can make it down 3 stories of stairs in 12 seconds flat. And that bed bugs die in the freezer. And how much I need the people on my team. And that I love blizzards and good conversations and haircuts and besos on the cheek from tiny brown-eyed two year olds. My ordinary is nothing close to routine. And crazy as it sounds, I wouldn’t change it for anything.