Weekend at the Beach—March 14-15

The older I get, the more I value the friendship of women. The Ladies Retreat was refreshing and I had a wonderful time getting to know some amazing women. However I will never see most of these women again. Here in my little neighborhood I am having an opportunity to get to know in depth some remarkable women. Age has a great deal to do with it. Women over 50 and over 60 have experienced a good deal of life. Our legs may not be the whistle bait they used to be, or our skin as smooth as a fresh peach, but hearts that have suffered and have been broken are compassionate hearts. Over the weekend of March 14 and 15 I went to the beach with 5 ladies from my neighborhood—all of us are well over 55. A few won’t say how old they are. Three of us are widows, and three are separated or divorced. The house where we stayed had a swimming pool, and we all put on our swimsuits and enjoyed the water. Try not to visualize six old ladies in swimsuits. It really is not a pretty sight. Everyone brought food to share and we had a great time preparing our meals together. Guatemalans prefer their music loud and they love to dance. I think there is something in their blood that they move so gracefully to the music. What I love about these women is their pure joy in living, how easily they break into laughter and their remarkable optimism. Life has not been easy for these ladies. Lupe, a widow has two severely retarded adult daughters. I have never heard her complain. She praises God for everything. Rita’s father was politically active and was assassinated. Her 25-year old sister was in the car with her father. She was shot in the head, never recovered mentally and died two years later. Her oldest son died in a car accident at the age of 33. Rita has the most amazing sense of humor and she keeps us laughing. I just wish I understood enough Spanish to get most of her jokes. Andrea’s husband began to abuse her when he took a mistress. She said she could have tolerated the mistress, but she did not want her three children to see her being mistreated, so she divorced him. She is a successful business woman with an amazing amount of energy. Her enthusiasm to get out and do things keeps the rest of us from sitting being passive. These ladies do not dwell on the things they have suffered, instead they find pleasure in simple things: a gloriously bright full moon, the thrill of a songbird, the sun setting over the beach, eating mangos right off the tree. I hope I will have an opportunity share the Gospel with them, but in the meantime I am learning a great deal about life from them.
(I changed the names of these women to protect their privacy.)

MAC Region Ladies Retreat—Feb. 19-23

Singing, praising, sharing, learning, laughing, shopping, eating out—the MAC (Middle America, Caribbean and Canada) Ladies Retreat was all this and more. I really had no expectations for these three days in Mexico City. My only goal was to not forget anything and still pack a light suitcase. Approximately 120 IMB missionary women and a team from an Arkansas church convened in a large hotel in the heart of Mexico City for a time of spiritual refreshing and fellowship. Being a rather new in this missionary role, I am curious to know the stories of the other missionary women. How did God direct them to the mission field? What was the nature of their “calling?” Every person has a story. Listening and hearing another person story opens the heart to love them.

One story completely mesmerized me. Gloria Sloan was sitting next to me at lunch. Someone asked her what work she and her husband were doing in Mexico. She replied that she was a widow and that her husband had died on the field. The other woman continued to probe until Gloria had told her story.
In June of 1999, the Sloan family had been missionaries about six months. The family and five summer missionaries were on the beach in southern Mexico celebrating the birthday of their younger daughter. Eleven year old Carla was holding the hand of one of the young summer missionaries when an undertow pulled them out to sea. Gary Sloan and two others went into the water to rescue them. They were able bring Carla’s body back to the shore, but were not able to revive her. Noticing that others were still struggling in the water, Gary went back into the water to attempt a rescue. He and two summer missionaries drowned in the rescue attempt. Even as the bodies of her husband and daughter were lying on the beach and the crowds began to gather, Gloria began to witness, “If this were you, where would you be? Let me tell you where my husband is now.” She told them about the glories of heaven and why she had such assurance. Gloria said that as she held her dead daughter in her arms, she felt the power of God come over her and comfort her. After a time of healing, Gloria and the rest of the family returned to Mexico where Gloria is still serving as a church planter. Gloria is also an amazing singer. The picture above is of Gloria singing for the ladies at the retreat.
Our speaker, Connie Cavanaugh, kept us laughing until our sides ached. The laughter kept us attentive to hear the serious and relevant message. Connie had a secret which she successfully kept hidden for a number of years. She was spiritually dry, in a spiritual wilderness. Often people who dry up spiritually just leave the church. They change friends. They drop out of religious life. None of these was an option for Connie because she is the wife of a prominent minister. Instead, she spent years faking her spirituality. She had the vocabulary down. She grew up in a religious home and she knew how to put on a spiritual face. Her book, From Faking it to Finding Grace, relates her journey out of the spiritual wilderness and back into God’s Grace. Her three messages revealed the God who never stops seeking us, who pursues us and loves us back into fellowship. Like a desert that springs into bloom when the rain comes, we have renewed spiritual vitality when God pours out His grace on us. What is essential in the process is being transparent and truthful about our spiritual struggle. We cannot lead others on the journey if we are faking who we are and where we are in the journey. Just before Jesus tells Peter that he will deny him, he says to him, “I have prayed that you will not lose your faith! Help your brothers be stronger when you come back to me." (Luke 22:32) As we return to Him, we are to help our brothers and sisters become stronger. The writer of Hebrews tells us to encourage one another and to spur one another on to love and good deeds (10:14-15). We can’t truly be effective in helping and encouraging if we are phony. I highly recommend Connie’s book for anyone who has had times of doubt and spiritual dryness or for anyone needing assurance of God’s amazing love.
The Retreat accomplished its purpose. The participants were spiritually refreshed, encouraged, and spurred on the good works. Thank you International Mission Board for sponsoring this event.

A Chance Encounter

The US Embassy had just opened for business. The Guatemalan “cowboy” and the young woman were an unlikely pair to be on the US citizen side of the Embassy. It was easy to see that they were confused, and I was bored. Maybe it was a chance encounter or maybe God ordained. Whichever, the meeting became much more than I expected. The young couple from the country had come to the city to get US passports for their two young daughters who were born in Rome, Georgia. Their challenge was 6 pages of forms written in English and needing to be completed in English. I was sitting waiting to get a document notarized. Seeing that they could not read the forms, I offered to help. They proudly showed me the pictures of their little girls and explained to me how proud they were that their children were American citizens. After completing the forms they were told to go to the embassy web site and make an appointment for interview. There are internet places all over the city, but for them to use the internet was definitely not going to be easy. I gave them my cell phone number and shook my head thinking about the obstacles ahead for this couple. I never expected to see or hear from them again.

A few weeks later I received a call on my cell phone from Alicia. At first I thought it was a wrong number and then she reminded me that we had met in the embassy. She told me that they were at the US Embassy with their children and that they had no money and no place to stay. What could I do? I am here as a missionary—one sent to help people. I called a taxi to pick them up and bring them to my house. (I don’t know the way to the embassy and back.) My missionary coworkers advised me to be cautious and not to leave them alone in the house. Therefore I was excused from work to stay with my house guests. Alicia, Lindolfo and the children had traveled on a bus for 10 hours to get to Guatemala City from their little village near the Mexican border. The children had not eaten since they left their home. Like children just about anywhere in the world given the choice of where to eat, they chose McDonald’s. They don’t have one in their little village, but they remembered from living in Georgia. The precious little girls, ages four and five, ate everything in their “Happy Meals.” It was easy to see how hungry they were.

They had appointments at the US Embassy for Wednesday morning and this was Monday afternoon. They were exhausted from their travels so they all went to bed fairly early getting us through Monday. Tuesday I decided to take them to the zoo. It is right next to the airport so I knew how to get there and back. None of them had ever been to a zoo and really didn’t know the names of many of the animals and I didn’t know all the names in Spanish, so it was a learning experience for all of us. The best attraction was seeing a squirrel with a huge avocado it its mouth. Avocado trees are more common here than any kind of nut tree. I just never thought of avocados as being food for squirrels.

Wednesday morning they gathered up all their belongings and headed back to the Embassy and then the long trip back to their country home where they live crudely, cooking over wood fires. Try to imagine how often you would cook if you had to gather wood and chop it and then build a fire to cook, and all you have to cook is rice and beans. Back in Georgia they had lived among other immigrants and managed without learning more than a few expressions in English. They worked at Tyson chicken processing plant. They had to return to Guatemala because Alicia’s mother was ill and could no longer take care of Alicia’s invalid 10 year son. Please pray for this family. Their needs are great and they do not know a loving God. I will see them again. They have to return to get the passports when they are ready. They promised to call, and I am certain that they will.

Remembering

It is Monday, and I am remembering that Monday five years ago. It was a wonderful day, beautiful and snappy cool. I took off work so that I could go with Fouad to a new cardiologist. His early morning appointment was in the Methodist Hospital in Sugarland. The doctor examined his list of medications and advised him to be very careful concerning injuries as he was taking a lot of blood thinning medication. We made an appointment to return on Thursday for more tests. We stopped by the Sugarland Mall to do a little Christmas shopping. Lunch was at Olive Garden. Fouad ordered lasagna and said that theirs was not as good as mine. We had an appointment with the realtor to sign the papers to buy the house in Heritage Grand, the retirement community. We finished in time to make it to Betty Strauss’ retirement party. Joe Adams was there, which really pleased Fouad. Joe and Fouad really enjoy each other’s company.


That day was God’s gift to me before my world came apart. Fouad fell on Tuesday afternoon and died on Wednesday—too much bleeding. My heart still aches to remember and I cannot forget. The best I can do is temporarily suppress. Has God been with me to comfort me? The answer is definitely yes. I am comforted in the midst of the pain, but I still grieve. Paul wanted to “know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his suffering.” (Philippians 3:10) Now I understand suffering. This yearning I have in my heart for what I have lost makes me contemplate the yearning and suffering God must have for the ones who are lost to Him. The greater the love, the greater the suffering when the love is lost. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Christ died for me. Can there be a greater love? What must I do in response? First, I must stay in loving relationship to Him, and second I must be about the business of reconciling the lost ones to Him.

Lake Atitlán and Guatemala Baptist Convention

November 11-13
The most beautiful area of Guatemala is around Lake Atitlán. The little village all around the lake are picturesque and seem to be from another time. It is a tourist dream. San Pedro de La Laguna, one of the lovely, little villages on the lake, hosted the Guatemala Baptist Convention. People came from all over the country to have their voices be heard and to learn about how God is working through His people. New churches and their pastors were recognized. Several groups sang for us. Just about half the people of Guatemala are indigenous and descended from the ancient Mayans. They maintain their own customs and distinctive dress. There are over 20 different languages and dialects spoken among these groups. Spanish is a second language for many Guatemalans. Most of the church services held in San Pedro are in a language other than Spanish. Many of these people came to the convention in their traditional dress giving us many photo opportunities. All was not entertainment at this convention. Even Guatemalan business meeting are a test of endurance, even more so when you have a difficult time understanding the language.
What is amazing about this little village is the high saturation of churches. There are three Baptist churches within a ten minute walking distance. As I walked the streets, I heard Christian music coming out from homes and businesses.

Day of the Dead, November 1

I had several choices to commemorate this very popular Guatemalan holiday. The first was not so appealing—attend a funeral, a cultural experience. My favorite was to go to the kite festival in Santiago Sacatepéquez. For this I needed a guide and I couldn’t find anyone willing to struggle with the traffic and crowds for this once a year spectacular event. While despondent in disappointment, my neighbor Noly called and invited me to go to the cemetery with her. What a choice! I went, not really knowing what to expect. Noly was in her exercise clothes which surprised me, because she is a very elegant lady and is usually very well dressed—high heels even. We battled traffic everywhere, but Noly is a competent driver and knows her way around this city. Her plan was to park at her friend’s house and then we would walk from there. The way into the cemetery was like a carnival with booths lining both sides of the street. Most had flowers for the visitors to buy to put on family graves, but food stands were very popular, selling typical food and pizza even. The clowns really added to the carnival atmosphere. When we arrived at the Rios family mausoleum, Noly began pulling out all the dead and old flowers and replacing them with the new. She put on her rubber gloves and cleaned all the spider webs and dust. It was all efficient business until it was finished, and then I saw it. This heavy sadness that fell over her as she gazed at her son’s stone—Carlos Enrique Rios, November 25, 1965-October 6, 1999. It wasn’t too hard to follow the ritual, but the real purpose was painful.

The Day of the Dead or All Saints Day is a time to remember loved ones who have died. In Guatemala as in most countries many traditions and pagan practices obscure the original and main purpose of the holiday. A major tourist attraction is the kite festival in Santiago Sacatepéquez. The kites are launched from the cemetery with messages to the dead or to God. The kites are flown again on November 2 so that the spirits that visited on the first may return to that place of the dead. Somehow these spirits are supposed to use the kites to transport themselves. Another tradition in Guatemala is eating fiambre with your family and friends. I googled this tradition and found several different stories to explain it.

Once upon a time, there was a convent in Antigua, Guatemala, where the nuns had been celebrating the All Saints Day. They had an uninvited, but important visitor. They were really nervous because they did not have enough food to make a proper dinner for the guest, so they collected and remixed all the leftovers from previous meals, from slices of cheese to potatoes. As a result, the Guatemalan Fiambre was born and the guest was delighted!

Fiambre is really a marinated salad of many meats, vegetables, and cheeses. Some of these dishes can have as many as 50 different ingredients. It has been said that no two are alike. I went to Noly’s sister’s home on Nov. 1 for the first fiambre. Almost the entire family gathered to share in this meal and there was no shortage of food. Now Noly has 3 sisters. Two of them had prepared this fabulous dish. In order not to hurt anyone’s feelings, we had to go to each of their homes on two different days. It was worth the effort, not so much for the food as for the ambiance. This family loves jokes and funny stories. Oh how I wish I could grasp all the innuendos and idiomatic expressions of the Spanish language.

Reflecting on the holiday, I am grateful for the hope we have in Jesus Christ.

If corpses can't be raised, then Christ wasn't, because he was indeed dead. And if Christ weren't raised, then all you're doing is wandering about in the dark, as lost as ever. It's even worse for those who died hoping in Christ and resurrection, because they're already in their graves. If all we get out of Christ is a little inspiration for a few short years, we're a pretty sorry lot. But the truth is that Christ has been raised up, the first in a long legacy of those who are going to leave the cemeteries.
(1 Corinthians 15:16-20 The Message)

I am also grate that I don’t need to tie a message to a kite to communicate with God.

So, friends, we can now—without hesitation—walk right up to God, into "the Holy Place." Jesus has cleared the way by the blood of his sacrifice, acting as our priest before God. The "curtain" into God's presence is his body.
(Hebrews 10:19-20)

San Luis Jilotepeque, October 11

San Luis Jilotepeque is a little village about a four hour drive to the south and east of Guatemala City. My little church, El Aposento Alto, took two van loads of people on a pilgrimage to the inauguration of a new Baptist Church here. It was a beautiful drive especially for me as I had never seen the Guatemalan countryside. Being in very tight quarters for that long of a time also provides opportunities to get better acquainted with fellow passengers. Of course for me the challenge was to understand and follow the conversations. The pastor was in our van as was one of the adult Sunday school teachers. Both have the gift for gab and both had fascinating stories to tell about their journeys in faith. Sitting right next to me was an elderly widow woman with whom I almost immediately bonded. She has such sweetness about her. The church members in Jilotepeque fed us an interesting lunch, but I could not begin to describe it. It filled the empty place in our stomachs and those serving were gracious. We had time to walk around this quaint little village before the worship/inauguration service. I had never been to such a new church before or had any idea what was about to transpire. Several visiting pastors spoke and deacon and pastors from other churches questioned the new congregation about doctrine and beliefs and a challenge was given. Of course there was plenty of music, very loud music and singing. The tiniest of churches have huge speaker systems. They feel that others in the town will hear the music and believe. I am certain the entire town could hear the music because my stomach was vibrating and I was wishing for ear plugs. Now I know why there is a need for deaf ministry in this country or at least why there are so many deaf people.