Giving Thanks

In much of the Dominican Republic, summer is summer is a time of oppressive heat. It is often drier, and the combination of heat and drought make many plants turn brown and even lose their leaves, but without the beautiful fall colors seen in the US. Dominicans don’t talk about spring or fall. These are simply times of slightly less heat. But in the winter, it cools off and we have more rain. We also have little wind. It gets quiet. It is like nature is resting and enjoying the comfortable conditions. There is green growth everywhere.

Right now I feel like this. At camp we had our busiest year ever. While this is good (tons of kids accepted Christ, many of these returned for discipleship weekends and training camps, and 34 Dominican churches made use of Pico for their retreats), it comes at a cost. We are tired. But God is good. He gives us seasons in our lives, including times to slow down a bit and reflect on all He has done for us.

I love Thanksgiving. While this is not an official holiday in the Dominican Republic, we have made it a tradition at Pico Escondido. We take the afternoon off and invite the family members of all of our Pico employees to come for an afternoon of fellowship, followed by a time of reflecting on all we have to be thankful for and then a big evening meal. We had about 60 people around our table this year. We have much for which to be thankful. I am thankful for my family. As someone who didn’t get married until he was in his forties, it is still somewhat of a miracle in my mind that I have an amazing wife and three wonderful kids. I am thankful for all the people that have contributed toward making Pico the place it is today. This list is long: financial supporters who have given generously both to build Pico and sustain me and my family; Pico staff and former staff who have poured their blood, sweat and tears into this place; volunteers from the US who have come and made Pico better through their time here; wise counselors who have helped guide the process of managing these resources. But most of all, we are thankful to God, who makes all things possible.

Thanksgiving dinner at Pico

 

Thanksgiving, part 1

Of Buiscuits and Life

When it comes to cooking for three small children, it can feel like you're on one of those cooking shows when time is pressing, and there are three judges who will hold nothing back. It's often a hit or miss. Not with biscuits. Biscuits (and tortillas con frijoles) are one of those few tried and true items everyone in our house loves - every time!

So, on Wednesday, I thought biscuits were the right choice for the evening. I was on the phone with a friend, kids were running around, and I was making this recipe I basically know by heart. All was fine, but I inadvertently grabbed the smallest biscuit cutter and I suddenly found myself with over 20 biscuits, needing to use two baking sheets. I was still on the phone when the husband started setting up the table and suddenly there was only one baking sheet with 6 biscuits on it where I had left two.

There's a table on the side of our dinning room, and there I saw the other baking sheet full of biscuits. So, I went ahead and prepped the plates for the boys with what I had in the kitchen, putting two biscuits on each plate to cool off (because, temperature is as key as flavor is, folks), and knowing that the husband and I could get our own from the ones in the dining room.

The boys came in from washing their hands, plates were served for them, each boy with two freshly baked biscuits on their plate, baby girl with one, and I had put one in Roy's plate to finish the ones in the kitchen. But when one of the boys saw this, he completely lost it. Right then and there, this boy who loves biscuits had a meltdown.

As we tried to calm him down and find out what had upset him so, we were able to gather that from his perspective, two biscuits for him wasn't right. He was sad there would be no seconds. He was upset his papa only had one. He was mad that the biscuits had run out before he even sat down. He had no control, no saying, over how biscuits were given. He had not seen the baking sheet on the corner, a sheet full of biscuits, fifteen of them! Even after showing him the other biscuits, it was hard for him to overcome the initial disappointment and it was a while before he could actually enjoy his food.

Later that evening, I was with a group of friends at Bible study, and the subject was on fear of the future. We had watched a video, and we were talking about the different things about the future that make us afraid. I have a brother battling cancer. I have a kid going through a very rough time. I have trips that need to happen soon and what seems like a tight time frame to make them all happen. And as we shared, I thought of the biscuits.

Oh so many times I am that child who receives one of his favorite things for dinner, but the arrangement still doesn't feel quite right. What if I want more? What if I want seconds? Will there be enough for me in the future? What if there's more for someone else but not for me? And while I am asking all these questions, I'm missing out on the meal that has already been set before me.

"You fathers - if your children ask for a fish, do you given them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him." (Luke 11:11)

"Since he did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for us all, won't he also give us everything else?" (Romans 8:32)

When God Gives You Lemons (I Mean, Limes)...

We got home a week ago on Sunday, after being two months in the United States. We had an amazing time seeing friends and family (more on that on the days to come...). After dropping all our bags in, I left to do some grocery shopping to get the basics for the next couple days. When I was in town, I met with my brother and he came to the store with me. As we were walking around, he noticed that the store had limes. He was excited to see limes. He said, "you can't find them anywhere and they're so expensive right now!"

I didn't think too much about it, other than making a mental note of "don't expect to find limes then." A few days later, I was reading Psalms 37, and I noticed verse 19:  "In times of disaster they will not wither; in days of famine they will enjoy plenty."

What a nice promise, I thought... and for a while just sat there wondering how this could even be possible. How does the Lord do that? What does that look like?

The day progressed, our friend Yudi came to watch the kids, and she was carrying a large black plastic bag. It was full of limes! She told me how there's a tree in her house and she has way too many!

Nowhere to be found, and too expensive... by the handful in my pantry for free!

We got home, hit the ground running, started getting ready to start the weeks of camp ahead of us, but we continue being amazed at how the Lord takes care of us!

Not The Lent I Signed Up For

Sawdust carpet in Antigua Guatemala (photo by Annette Aguilar)

Lent. The season of slowing down and meditating on Christ's days leading to his death. Lent makes me homesick. There is nothing like lent in Guatemala. The city turns purple, and you will undoubtedly find processions throughout the season. The flower and sawdust carpets adorn streets.
The mayor's office publishes an official day-to-day calendar of all the city's activities. You can't escape it. And so this year, I started lent feeling meh. Feeling like it was not lent yet.

I gave some thought to the things I wanted to give up, and realize rather than giving up something, I much needed to take up an abandoned practice - getting up early. I really missed those early times of having an hour to myself. I envisioned great times of reading Scripture, digging deep, writing page after page in my journal, and why not, drinking that cup of coffee while still warm and in one sitting.

Alas, the one kid who wakes up every night with a different issue, the other kid who despite turning one still thinks I'm her personal 24-hour buffet, and my night-owl wayward ways, made me realized that I had not set myself up for success here. My friends and I read through Isaiah. The plan we were following was very heavy on the reading, and there were times I would read, and re-read, and still it would feel like nothing was entering my head.

So, I felt I was flunking lent. This whole season wasn't really going the way I had envisioned it. Then, one Friday afternoon, two weeks before Easter, one of the kids came down with a fever and started throwing up. That week, five of our little friends had been hospitalized with a stomach virus, and I just knew these were the same symptoms. A few hours later, I got a voice message from my brother Pablo, sharing some heavy health news. We spoke that night. Things were not looking great, but nothing could be known until he underwent surgery, perhaps in the next couple weeks.

That night, Roy and I took turns taking care of a sick little boy - my sick brother always in the back of my mind. As I watched Daniel sleep, I thought of how Jesus said we are to become like children. I had always thought if it as an invitation to the all-believing, joyful, laid back beings they often are. But here was a needy, weak and sick little boy. I thought of Jesus as a sick three year old boy.

Photo by Annette Aguilar

"Who has believed our message...?" Indeed. As I spent all my energy cloroxing every inch of my I could not risk contagion, it was really hard to believe this wild story of such dire suffering and salvation. It's still really hard for me to believe that a 29-year-old man whose diapers I changed as a baby, who I played hide-and-seek with, who I watched grow, is going through physical pain and anguish I cannot fathom.

"A man of sorrow... familiar with pain" And this cuts deep. Oh... pain and I are no strangers. But no matter how many times the pain has struck, I want to quickly turn my face away. I want to avoid more. I want to run away from it. And it is hard for me to see Christ in pain. I want to see him in glory. I want to see him in miracles. But I don't want to see him in pain.

I ended up driving past midnight to the ER with my boy. We were sent home about an hour later. Saturday afternoon, as I was still caring for the sick boy, still trying to clean up messes and keep the other two kids safe, we got another message. It was now the brother's turn to head to the ER, except his wouldn't be an hour-long visit. He would spend the next morning in surgery, where doctors were to find his cancer is back, rather aggressive. He spent the next three days in ICU. He then came home a week after that. Went back in this past Tuesday.

I spent hours the Monday after his surgery looking for flights. Nothing would work out. I've never experienced this before, but it really was impossible to fly during that week. And so, I stayed home... caring for the other two kids who had caught up with the virus. And as I sat there, a hundred questions racing through my mind, thinking 'when then, do I get to go?' the prophet I have been reading comes to mind:

"Who among you fears the Lord
    and obeys the word of his servant?
Let the one who walks in the dark,
    who has no light,
trust in the name of the Lord
    and rely on their God." (Isaiah 50:10)

No early morning, Scripture filled, coffee-flavored, long-handed journal entry Lent for me. But a messy, sickness-filled, uncertain, and scary Lent. And a Divine invitation to trust. I am reminded, once again, about Jesus farewell to his disciples, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Thoughts about Planting Trees and Glory

Roy's reflections 

Last week we welcomed our first US work team of 2017. It is always an exciting time for us. The work team impact is huge - much of what exists at Pico has been made by them. This year they are planting trees, assembling bunk beds, improving access, building gazebos, erecting safety fences, pouring sidewalks, creating shade, making benches, painting dorms... We look at their work (and ours) as lovingly caring for holy ground. 

Recently I have been reading Revelations. This is a tricky book of the Bible for me. I like the concrete - things I can see and touch and wrap my hands around. I studied engineering and not philosophy for good reasons. I prefer to focus on the practical side of life. So I confess that Revelations is sometimes a bit "out there" for me. But in the last couple of years, God has been taking me through experiences that have made practical and "out there" intersect for me.

This morning I went back to the first chapter in Revelations. John paints a very vivid picture of Jesus. This is no longer the Jesus that walked around in the skin of a Galilean carpenter, but the Jesus that had returned to his full glory. 

^"I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. The hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance." [Rev. 1:12-16]

I tend to think of Jesus in in more down-to-earth terms. As one who likes to work with wood, I am comfortable thinking about Jesus the carpenter who was fully God, but looked more or less like me. Yet I cheat myself if I keep Jesus in the box of human limitations. The reality is that while our God loves and cares for us, he is not our nanny. He is holy, magnificent, all-powerful, full of glory and worthy of our fear and praise and wonder. 

Many of you have never been to Pico Escondido, but I hope you all have places where God has given you glimpses of Himself. These are holy places. Normal spaces transformed by God's glory. The Apostle John's island of Patmos was a Roman prison. Yet it was where God gave him an amazing vision of Christ in all of his true glory. For hundreds of adolescents each summer, Pico Escondido becomes the same thing. It is a place they come to because it sounds like a lot of fun - because we have a pool and a giant swing and great food and lots of other people their ages. Yet for many of those who come it is transformed into holy ground - the place where they met Jesus.

A Prayer Walk In Distant Lands

Inviting kids to club with my cousin Debora

Last week, I was in Costa Rica for meetings with about 36 staff from all over Latin America. On Wednesday, we split into five groups and spent the day hanging out with local leaders in different neighborhoods where clubs have started up/will start recently. I didn't know where I was going, but I ended up having the incredible blessing of going to the neighborhood of San Rafael, where my cousin is currently doing ministry.

After spending some time hearing the story of the community, and how a particular club started there, we were invited to be part of a Prayer Walk with the local leaders. A Prayer Walk is pretty much that - you walk throughout a neighborhood with a couple friends, inviting the Holy Spirit to reveal to you what work is being done in that neighborhood, and how the Lord may be asking you to be part of it. It's very simple and conversational. You don't stop and 'pray over' a place. You walk, pray as you walk with your eyes open, talking with your friends and asking what is being observed in general. Prayer Walks are one of the main practices we have been using in our ministry as we have been learning different ways of cooperating with the Holy Spirit with our friends from Presbyterian-Reformed Ministries International (PRMI).

So, our group divided into smaller groups of three and we set off to walk. I was with Sharon, who is an Area Director in Costa Rica, and Aaron, a volunteer leader. We started off, and prayed as we walked for the different things we felt led to pray in the moment. We prayed that if God had someone for us to meet or talk to, that we would know. After about 15 minutes of walking, we found ourselves at the entrance of a community that was in the middle of two adjacent neighborhoods where there is Young Life, but neither Sharon nor Aaron had ever walked through it. So, we went in, and as we walked I started feeling a need to pray for moms who were praying for their own children. I prayed for moms whose children were struggling with addictions and felt alone. We prayed they would find other moms or people to pray with. We continued walking, and found ourselves at the end of the neighborhood where there was a basketball court. We had a clear view of Granadilla, the other community where there is a club. A place full of violence and various needs. We spent a good time praying there.

After we were done, we turned around, and started walking back. At the same time, from the other side of the street, out of some bushes, came an elderly woman, with an armful of logs over her shoulder. A machete was tied to her skirt. Aaron offered to carry the logs for her. She said they weren't too heavy, but if he insisted, sure he could help her. Aaron had to steady himself, as the logs were indeed heavy. She asked if we were from La Muni, the mayor's office. Aaron replied that were were from an organization that worked with teenagers and we were just praying for the community. She nodded.

We reached her house, and said goodbye. As we walked away, she sort of yelled, "let's see if you guys can remember to pray for me and my family." So, we turned around, and asked how we could pray for her. She said we could pray for her son. He was addicted to drugs, at the moment was inside the house. She said she had lost him to drugs, and sometimes she felt so hopeless she thought about running away. So right there, outside her gate, we prayed for her; we prayed for her son; then we took turns giving her hugs. And we walked away just marveled at the whole encounter.

That evening, I was sharing the story with my aunt, and she said, "I love it when God works that way... Actually, He ALWAYS works that way. It's us who miss out on it."

May we not want to miss any of it.

Uncertainty in a Green Bag

A week ago the husband underwent a double hernia surgery. I went with him for his last pre surgery check up and came out more concerned about his recovery at home than the surgery itself. The thought of having him come with surgery done on both sides of his abdomen and him not being able to lift any weight for at least six weeks was a little overwhelming - I just kept thinking that the same boys who had given him the hernias were the ones he was coming home to.

So, on Wednesday morning, we drove at 6AM to the hospital an hour away. We checked in, and by 8:30 they called his name, and he went inside. We had prayed, and I was very chill about the whole procedure, he was not going to get general anesthesia, and as I understood it, there was very little risk. About 15 minutes later, I heard a nurse shout the husband's name and call for a relative. She handed me a green plastic bag, with the husband's belongings.

After getting the bag, I noticed for the first time all the other green bags on the floor, next to all the other relatives who were in the waiting area. I pulled out my computer and got to work, trying to pass the time in a productive way. I smiled at the ladies sitting around me, and was a little surprised to see one of them did not return it. She had a fixed look of concern in her face, and even though we could see each other, I was too far away to start a conversation with her, so I just got busy again. After a while of sitting there, I got bits and pieces of her story as I overheard her conversation with other people - her daughter was in surgery. She had already lost a daughter a year ago and was now raising her 2-year-old grandson. I understood the deep concern in her face; I felt a little self-conscious about my cheerful smile earlier.

Hours went by, and I heard nothing. People's names kept being called, except for the one I was there for. After spending a few hours working and making calls, both my computer and phone had run out of battery and I had no place to plug them in. So, I had nothing to do but sit there and take in the fact that my husband had been inside a surgery room for four hours and I had not heard any news.

And then I had the most awful feeling that he was gonna have severe blood loss and not make it. I started praying and asking for protection against hemorrhage. I wasn't sure why I was thinking this weird anxious thoughts, but I kept praying anyways, and thought a lot about uncertainty. I also tried to get a little distracted and watched the TV in the waiting room, but it was full of international news and interviews, and it made me even more aware of how uncertain life is. We get used to our normal. We assess our risks. But in reality, we cannot really have control over the things happening around us. But we can TRUST... We can let the words of the prophet sink in our hearts

"Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the rock eternal." (Isaiah 26:4)

Finally, around 2PM, I heard my husband's name, and I was ushered into the recovery room, and there he was, smiling and talking, and we only got a couple of minutes, but I got to see his face. He had talked to the doctor and the doctor said everything had gone well. The nurse told me there were no rooms available in the hospital at the moment, so I could go have lunch and come back. When I came back, I got to see the doctor, who reassured me all had gone well, had taken a little longer than expected, but he had been able to do his work and the husband was doing great.

I got to see him again a little before 5PM, then a friend took over, I drove home, took care of kids, got bath time rolling, left the baby asleep, and drove back. They finally brought him to his room at 10PM. That's when I got more details about the surgery - in general, as the doctor had said, things had gone well. It just had taken longer. He had been in there for about 3 hours. It had taken longer because he was bleeding a lot. That's right. The doctor had to go extra slow because the husband was bleeding more than normal. I sat there not believing what I was hearing. This was exactly what I had been praying for during the time he was in surgery!

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." (Romans 8:26)

 And so I was once again reminded and assured that this is a God I can trust. At times, it seems like the world is unwinding and things keep changing. Old and new challenges may overwhelm us. Old fears and new ones spring up. But oh, this Love we have, we can trust Him. 

"I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.” (John 16:33)

Stinky Feet And Other Things Human

A couple of months ago we were sitting at the dinner table while one of the boys said he wanted to talk that evening about stinky feet. We all laughed at his random choice of conversation and asked him if he had stinky feet. He replied, "No... But I think Jesus did." We all laughed some more, but I did marvel at this little boy's comprehension of Jesus' humanity. He did not come up with this idea on his own. One of the books they love to read at night is The Jesus Storybook Bible. One of the stories it tells is about Jesus washing the disciple's feet - how everyone back then had stinky feet because they wore sandals and had dirty roads. So, yes, Jesus also had stinky feet.

This past fall we had a lot of rain. A lot of rain. So, when you have little boys who love to play in the water and a mama who wears sandals a lot, well, you eventually come across the challenge of foot odor - or cicote as it is known in the Dominican Republic.

I think the main reason why Daniel's observation caught my eye was that it was not just that Jesus had stinky feet, it was that this meant he totally understood what it was like to be well... Me. And I started thinking that most of the time I try to deal with my shortcomings like I deal with my stinky feet. Sometimes, I keep my shoes on at all cost - I stay distant, guarded, don't play any games that would put me in the position of having to take my shoes off; I don't put myself at the risk of uncovering my soul and letting those around me see how truly broken I am. Other times, I just spend my resources in doing my best to fix or avoid the problem - I buy the best foot care there is, make sure I invest in quality shoes, or avoid muddy areas,  so I work hard and fill my life with enough things, degrees, good works, spending so much energy in avoiding the things that might make me get to that truly broken place. But reality is that, under the right (or rather wrong) circumstances, we all get some cicote at some point.

And there He Is. The High Priest - kneeling down in front of me, saying "I know... I know... just let me wash this for you." And I want to say "No. Please, it's just that I didn't realize it was going to be so muddy... my bad... poor choice of shoes... I'll take care of that when I get home." Yet there He stays, The High priest - kneeling down ready to wash not just stinky feet but all sorts of shortcomings.  

"Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help." Hebrews 4:14-16 

What truly Good News. I want to do that - walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give!