Saturday, March 28, 2009

This is my new home. goodbye blogger.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Road to Juárez

August 23rd, '08

Lucas woke me up that day. At about 6 am every morning, he started to quack violently, probably looking for some breakfast. Lucas was the duck that our host family owned. I say 'owned' because I'm not quite sure what became of him. As annoying as it was to wake up to quacking, you can't help but laugh. At least I couldn't help but laugh, I won't speak for the rest of the team. The sunrise is absolutely beautiful there. It floods the sky with colours you just don't see in Toronto. The hazy morning skies here can't come close to comparing with this. The sun illuminated the masonry housing and casted a soft glow over everything beneath. The dogs barked as they ran astray outside. I played with a few of these dogs for a bit until I was reminded that most, if not all of them were probably rabid. Not all of the houses there were occupied. Most of them look abandoned, but sometimes to my surprise I would see someone sweeping or sitting just outside one of the houses I had previously thought would have been unoccupied. They looked uninhabitable for the most part, so it shocked me more than once to see this. I started to smell breakfast. This meant that Delfina, the Pastor's wife was already preparing us breakfast. I was both excited and terrified for mealtimes. The food was always above and beyond what I expected and tasted amazing. However, refried beans were often a main course and that didn't agree with my stomach. Everyone else started to wake up.

We were scheduled to participate in a car wash that day. It was sounding like it was going to be a tough day, but we were all excited for a challenge. The previous day was spent bumming around so it was exciting to have a day packed full of stuff to do. After seeing the dedication and perseverance of Pastor Ramone, the congregation of his church, his family and his community exhibited on a daily basis, I became more eager to put some hard work into the day. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I saw as a paradox in Mexico. Everyone worked so hard from sunrise to sunset, yet still seemed to have all the time in the world to enjoy each other's company and the lives that God had given them. In North America, having a busy schedule means that we have no time for friends, no time for God, no time to appreciate life. It also probably means that we spend a lot of time complaining about what we do have, or what we think we don't have. My thoughts were postponed for a while as we were called down for a lovely breakfast.

Finishing up breakfast, I was all prepared to head down to a car wash and get my hands dirty… or clean, in this instance. Pastor Ramone had other plans. He needed two 'strong guys' to come with him in the truck and pick up some tables. Since there were only two guys, I became one of the strong ones. This happens a lot to me. I become winner because of default; I become strong because of default. I have a lot thank 'default' for. Anyways, Murray (the other strong guy) and I hopped into the back of a red pickup truck. Thinking we were only going to the old church, which was five minutes away, we didn't bother trying to get comfortable. Ten minutes later and we were on a highway. We started to think that maybe we were in for a longer haul than we had originally thought. After about forty-five minutes of driving, we arrived at a pretty nice looking church that we needed to drive through a field to get to. When we got there, we started loading tables and chairs onto the back of the truck from a shed that didn't look like it had been opened for the last ten years. Since I was the 'small one' I was volunteered to crawl into the back of the shed and start handing the big people the chairs. There was so much dust on these chairs that I could actually feel my fingers sinking into it as I grabbed them. I came out and look like Pigpen. Remember Pigpen? From Charlie Brown? Had his own little dust cloud that followed him around? Yup. That was me. I started to dust myself off, and then realized I was sitting in the back of a pickup truck speeding down a highway and that the wind would probably take care of it. We started going back to the church site, but another route was being taken. We ended up driving through some small towns making frequent stops where our drivers would get out and leave us for a few minutes. Murray and I started to get a little suspicious of the goings-on our two drivers were taking part in, but we laughed it off and just let the day happen. We eventually concluded that they were looking for some piece of electronic equipment, although we never did find out what it was. About two to three hours after departure, we arrived back at the church.

Everyone was already feverishly working to prepare the church for the following day. The dedication service was to happen in less than twenty four hours and people were still laying concrete and setting up table decorations. The kids were running around outside and were using what little they had to entertain themselves. Now that I think of it, there was only a mound of dirt and a hose outside. They sounded like they were playing in a toy store. I probably would have been stressed out at the amount of work left to be done, but since nobody else was panicking, I decided I'd keep my cool too. I started to look for work, and before I knew it, a man named Francisco had me mixing cement. This was the most physically exhausting thing I had done all week, and I thought I was going to die. Murray and I looked like we were going to faint and/or cry a few times, but we held it together because nobody else seemed to be the slightest bit tired. While working with Francisco, he told us a little bit about his life. He has two children, an older one and a newborn. He works from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm, making about 70 pesos a day, which is equivalent to $7 American. Once he's done work, he comes to the church and works from 4:30 'til 9:00, then goes home and spends some time with his daughter. He then goes to bed and does it all over again. When he's not at the church working, he's at home taking care of his children. His wife works nightshifts from 4:00 'til 9:00 so they barely ever see each other. He told us all of this without an ounce of complaint in his voice. In fact, while he worked, he had a smile on his face and often, jokes were thrown back and forth between him and several of the other guys. Life is similar among the majority of people living in Juarez. Francisco was actually one of the lucky ones who had a steady job that could support his family. I couldn't help but think about the dissatisfaction I would probably have if I had to work 13 hour days, half of it being unpaid. I would probably resent it quite a bit.

The next morning was the dedication service. All of us were excited to go, but we got worried when nobody came to pick us up. It was ten minutes after the service was supposed to have started, and we were all sitting in the living room watching fuzzy Olympic recaps. Eventually somebody did come pick us up, and we took a very bumpy van ride to the church. When we got there, the place looked amazing. People had stayed behind the night before to make sure that everything was just right. The place was packed full of people throwing their hands in the air, dancing, and most importantly, worshipping. We struggled to find seats. When we all did, the kids started to perform a dance they had been rehearsing. It was unbearably cute, so I decided, along with a few others from the group, to get up and record it. I returned to my seat to find someone else in it. Not able to communicate in Spanish, I kind of just let them have the seat and I stood at the back. While I was standing there, I was enthusiastically greeted by many men and women of the church. They had smiles on their faces bigger than…um. I can't think of anything to compare it to, they just had really big smiles. Everybody was just so overwhelmed with joy at the fact that they finally had their own place where they could congregate and worship God. There wasn't a single stern face on any of them. After the service had ended, we were bombarded with more food. I didn't complain. I was feeling pretty sick, but it was too good to pass up. We sat and chatted in broken English with a few people, and took some pictures before it was time to go home.

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter into the Kingdom of God."

Mark 10:25

No, I am not saying that we're all going into hell because we live in one of the richest nations in the entire world. I'm not taking any extremist views here. I'm just making an observation. In North America, we have so many things to distract us from the things that bring us real joy. Time we should be spending with our friends or family is spent communicating with them over the internet, while we sit alone in our rooms. Time we should spend reflecting on God's word or in a quiet time of prayer is spent listening to iPods and talking on the phone. Money we should be tithing or giving to the less fortunate we spend on clothes, fast food and entertainment. The people of Juarez had less of this distraction, and they had more joy. I don't think I'm making an outlandish claim when I say that I saw more people filled with genuine joy and happiness in Mexico than I do in months living in North America.

I think that if we really want to see what God's plans for our lives are, we need to step outside of our North American bubble and observe those around us, because the people living outside of it seem to have a much better concept of joy, happiness and community than we do. We live in a land of opportunity, and we are very blessed to have everything we do. But we weren't blessed so that we could have comfortable lives. We were blessed so that we might bless others. It is way too easy to take what we have for granted until we see people who are without. I would challenge anyone who reads this to make the effort to take a trip to a country that lives in relative poverty to us and open to open your minds to an alternate lifestyle. I can only hope to ever bless someone as much as the people of Juarez have blessed me.


Ps. It took me all week, but I finally built a house of cards. Now that's how you play Dutch Blitz!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Burnt.

I found my wallet, but things still suck. To the few who read this, I need prayer. My brain has been burned out. It's hard to function with an overcooked brain. Pray that my brain may be uncooked, and I can be normal again. Much appreciated.

Friday, September 12, 2008

This sucks.

I have no idea how to accurately convey how frustrating it is to continually lose something, despite your best efforts. There aren't words to describe the anger I feel right now. I lost my wallet. Again. It had everything in it. For most people, this would be a minor inconvenience. Someone would find it eventually and return it. This just doesn't happen to me. Ever. Now I have to shell out cash that I don't have for replacement cards that will probably get lost again within the next year. I also have to buy a new wallet. I don't have the time, money, or patience for this crap. I'm done.

The following video usually makes me feel a lot better when I'm depressed or angry. I'm going to post it anyways, regardless of it's effectiveness today, or lack thereof. Here it is.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

I was never really good at math anyways.

"When we reduce Christian spirituality to math we defile the Holy."


I need to stop trying to figure out God.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Like a big...pizza pie?

The moon hit my eye tonight. Not literally, although it would have made a heck of a story to tell. It was just up in the sky, looking all nice and detailed, when it decided to catch my attention. Then It decided to hide behind some clouds. The clouds started to glow. It was nice. That is all.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Grath...

Trying to find a comfortable mid-way point between God's grace and His wrath is getting rather difficult for me. God is so utterly repulsed by sin, but He has infinite grace. I can't make sense of it.

In other words, God doesn't fit into my box. Trying to make sense of Him makes my mind feel like it's imploding.

I can't really explain it, but I think I'm starting to appreciate the beauty of mystery.

In other news, I have a rather large box that I will no longer be needing. Any takers?