8 Cities, 3 Weeks, and. . .12 Grey Whales?

Yes, that's right: 12 grey whales. As I sit here on a mattress (yeah!) in La Paz, BCS, finally taking a moment to count the number of cities on our itinerary in the last several weeks of Outreach, I can't help but smile at the memories. Since leaving Loreto two weeks ago, we've been from the Sea of Cortez to the Pacific and back again, and from a beat up, off road ranch to one of the hottest tourist cities in Mexico. We've had a couple days of rest and presented the gospel and message of hope and encouragement in 6 churches and at least that many communities. Sometimes it's in the form of dramas and testimonies; other times, it looks like praying with a neighbor or painting a room in the church. God has blessed, broken, stretched, given, taken away, and pursued each of us on the team. But words are cheap; I'll let some pictures tell the story.

Remember Rocio from my last story? We got another chance to go out to the migrant camp again, and this time my camera was working!




Students entertaining the crowd with a funny skit to break the ice. But be careful, because "La Casa Se Quema!"

Just last night, we got a chance to minister in a colonia outside La Paz. After the program, we helped with the church's main ministry: distributing food to the people who came.

At one of our first stops in Vicente Guerrero, Luisa gives an explanation of one of our puppet skits.

Handing out balloons is one of the kids' favorite parts of the program, and it gives us a chance to make friends and give a hug.

The majority of our programs have been open-air, so we made sure all our stuff was very flexible to our environment- check out the busy puppets!

Sometimes, just watching the kids' faces makes the chaos worth it!

The road to San Javier, about 30 km outside Loreto, takes at least an hour and half to travel, through creeks and potholes and hairpin turns. At least the view is beautiful!

One morning in Loreto, several of the students and I got up early and walked to the waterfront watch the sunrise- God's beauty makes me breathless in some moments, this being one of them!

One of our presentation tools is Stomp, making rhythms with your hands and feet as a group.

Even if we announce a certain program as focused on children, the mothers and grandmothers often come along. It's a really cool chance to minister to them as well!

After all the moving and intense ministry schedule, we got a chance to rest up a bit in Cabo San Lucas. . . after sleeping on cement floors and taking cold bucket showers for weeks, we all appreciated the soft beds and warm showers-and the lack of spiders on the ceiling!

And now its back to the old grind, but maybe with little Miss Sunshine in the mornings, we'll all make it!

We arrive back in TJ on February 7th for a week of debrief and processing the last 5 months and all that God has done, but we still have a week of ministry left. Who knows what God's got up His sleeve?

As for the 12 grey whales, at one of our stops in Puerto San Carlos, there is a bay where grey whales come to mate and give birth. A couple of fisherman from the church we were working with took us out to see them. . . there's nothing quite like watching a 2 ton whale swim under your small fishing boat about 10 feet under the surface!

Unspoken

"What is your name?" I unobtrusively ask the question to break a curious silence that's been lingering throughout the program.
"Rosio," the soft answer comes.
As that's a new name to my ears, it takes me a couple tries to make sure I'm hearing the right word. I point to the brightly striped blanket draped across the bundle she cradles in her lap and politely ask if it's her child. The affirmative answer takes me off guard. Her dark eyes are reserved, but she's glanced at me several times since she sat next to me half an hour ago. She's small, a good eight or ten inches shorter than me, and her long, coffee-hued hair is held back by plastic headband. Creaseless, toffee colored skin smoothly accentuates her softly curved face. As my curiosity has to know, I gently ask, "How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
I am speechless as the softly spoken number resonates against the walls of my mind. As my heart begins absorb the thought, I can feel the walls of my box grind open a bit further. Fourteen? And my heart hurts as I hear the rest of her story.
She's from Michoacán, a state hundreds of miles away on the mainland near Mexico City. That's where her siblings live; her parents are in the States. The only family she has in the area is her husband's parents and siblings. They were married two years ago, and Yoselin, her baby girl, was born just two months ago.
As the program winds down, she wants me to get a picture of us together, but my camera has decided that it can't function with the poor lumination of fading twilight. After a few minutes of small talk, I see that the students are cleaning up and preparing to go. We exchange a hug, expressing more than we really ever will with words. And as our group packs up, says goodbye to the people we've met, and makes our way back to Loreto, one image bounces before my eyes on the dusty glass window of the van: little Rosio, her arms barely wrapping around her child, disappearing alone around the corner of a cardboard shack.
In the one hour we spent together, I discovered a few of the facts of Rosio's life. But it's what I still want to know that I'm bothered by. The unspoken questions that knock on my heart. Like,
Does she have a chance to go to school?
How did she come to be in Baja California Sur?
What were the circumstances around her marriage and baby's birth?

And perhaps most of all,
Is there anyone in her life that she can share her heart with? Who cares just for her?
Is she safe?
Is there anyone she goes to when life is too big and she needs to hide in Someone's arms?

And then the uncomfortably obvious challenge that screams silently from my heart:

How far am I willing to go to make sure the answer is "Yes"?