Favorite Photos from Summer Outreach Camps 2015

Following are some of our favorite photos from outreach camps at Pico Escondido this year.

 

Camp Five Campers & Leaders

Camp Six campers and leaders

Pool Games

Field Games

More Field Games

What would YL camp be without crazy program characters?

Games at Club

Camp Two Campers & Leaders

Work crew welcoming kids to camp

Fun at our County Fair

Final night bonfire in the amphitheater

 

 

Here's To Less Than Perfect Sabbaths

I have been trying to be really intentional about planning and keeping a day of rest as a family. With changing schedules and little kids, sometimes it feels rather a beautiful illusion, but something that cannot easily be accomplished. So, when yesterday the husband suggested a little hike to the river and a picnic, I got really excited about the idea - what could be better? A hike, time in nature, time as family, rest?

And then, we started getting ready. For the next half hour, I yelled at my kids as I tried to get them to pick up toys and books before we left. I got so angry about noticing the little things that were out of place in my house, and I got frustrated with myself about the fact that I hadn't done this or that before.

Finally, we all got in the car, swimsuits on. The husband thought that we could buy some roasted pork along the way, since that's a Dominican Sunday tradition. Seemed like a great idea to do pork sandwiches, so I packed bread, chips, apples, and water.

And then, we drove and drove. Never found a pork stand along the way. They really are usually every couple of blocks on Sundays, but not a single one to be found. We stopped at a little Colmado (store) along the road, looking for some cheese, and they only had cheese for frying, which the boys won't eat.

Further down the road, it suddenly hit me: I never packed the shoes for the boys. I asked the husband, he didn't either. So, there we were, on our way to a hike, with two barefoot kiddos. As we were driving, I started thinking about all the things that were less than ideal in this situation, but that as frustrated as I was, all these things were not the most important thing - this day was to remember the Lord, and his work, to point each other to Him, and we were together.

I started thinking how this was similar to our life in community as brothers and sisters. Sometimes, being together seems like a very hard task. Sometimes, there is someone who really gets on our nerves, and we cannot do much to avoid their presence. And sometimes, that means we are in this journey with zero excitement, like the toddler here, who got reprimanded for thirty minutes straight before finally being strapped in.

Sometimes, you don't have all the resources you would like to have on your journey together. And it becomes easy to dwell on the things you are missing, and start blaming yourself and others, for lack of planning and foresight, or for someone having been wasteful. But here's the beauty of community - Sometimes, not having all you need, means you get to carry each other.

Although, that may mean that you have to carry the person who drove you crazy all morning, and you have to let the person who was less than patient with you carry you (Note: you don't necessarily have to smile while being carried).

Or, it also means that you have to really do things you dislike, to get to the destination - like my sand-hating kid over here, just taking one step at a time.

And as you continue walking, you may find yourself surprised with the scenery. Something about knowing that you are on your way to fresh river water in the middle of a hot sunny day, helps you keep going. So, no, you don't suddenly find yourself with more things - we still just had bread and chips, but the company and surroundings were more beautiful and fulfilling than what we could have had.

And we found some of our favorite things along the road...

And finally, we got to the long awaited river! We all enjoyed getting in the water and throwing some rocks, and making big splashes.

On the way back, we were surprised by both boys trying to climb a big rock. To us, it seemed something beyond their skill, but the husband only had to spot them and point at places where they could set their feet. They did the work themselves. They cannot do it completely alone, yet. They also would not have had a chance to try out their climbing skills had we not come. And so, it also happens with our journey as followers of the Crucified. We are to strive in the midst of new challenges, and support each other as we do so. If we would choose the easy way of not even trying to go and be together, we would miss these chances of growing together.

Isn't this what we are called to as a body? Are we not to come together as family to the River of Life? Even when it's hard work, even when there is that someone who can get our blood boiling, and we would rather take a time-out from them than go on a hike together, and even when we don't have all the things we may have needed or wanted for the journey. And on our way, let's enjoy the beauty of creation and the beauty of communion and of being together. Because, Christ paid dearly with His life for us to have a chance to become one with each other.

"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting each other, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching." - Hebrews 10:24-25

Challenges of Serving in Love

This summer at Pico Escondido was a whirlwind. Summers always are, but this more than most. We completed two major construction projects this spring and summer, including our new pool, which we did in under two months. That, plus lots of work teams and local groups in June and early July meant that by the beginning of outreach camps on July 9th the Pico Escondido team was already worn out. Our local ministry team (Vida Joven) had projected having six camps of about 135 kids and leaders plus 30-35 assigned team and work crew. Sounded great. 

We knew that we would have some new challenges. First, we hosted the first ever Latin America Family Camp for families in the US who wanted to take their kids on an international service experience and learn more about Young Life's ministry in Latin America. This would be sandwiched between two outreach camps, which generally run Thursday to Sunday. We also knew that the sixth outreach camp (one more than last year) instead of occurring at the end of the summer would also be sandwiched between other camps. We had planned for these events. Yet when all was said and done, instead of averaging 135 kids and leaders, we averaged 184. The biggest week we had 260 people in camp. We have 185 permanent beds, so this makes for some operational challenges, especially since we never knew how many kids would show up until a couple of hours before they arrived! And in the end, over 1100 kids and leaders attended camp. This was 60% more than our previous high.

I was generally very proud of how our team took on these challenges. They understand that youth ministry, especially in a culture like the DR, is one of many surprises. More importantly, they understand that we are all part of one body in Christ, striving toward the same goal. That means that Vida Joven's focus is reaching out to and loving kids around the country, regardless of whether the kids are responsible in signing up for camp on time. That means it is very hard to tell a kid he can't go to camp because he is late when you know how badly he needs this camp and to be confronted with the Gospel. It also means that Vida Joven needs people like our camp staff - people who may be less gifted at discipling kids, but who are great at handling the logistics and administrative details of camps. 

In 1 Corinthians 12, it says: "Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body." This is followed up in chapter 13 about different ways we try to serve, recognizing that love is the thing that gives value to all the rest. So for our camp staff, we could have the best camp in the world and we could be amazing organizers and planners, but if we don't bathe it all in love, we are a clanging cymbal. Love never fails. This summer, we were not perfect at loving, but thank you Pico staff and volunteers for having this focus!

Mother's Day

 Ah... mothering; there really is no time where you are off. I type at the same time I have a who-can-stare-the-longest-into-the-other's-eyes standoff with the 16-month-old who just grabbed a phone charger at the same time he whispered "no, no, no..."

I wake up today to an over-excited two-and-a-half year old screaming "Happy mother's day, mama!" Lucky for him, his dad has a cup of coffee already in hand. Smart man I married. The youngest doesn't really know what to say, but he copies his older brother's enthusiasm and screams "mama! mama! mama!"I start getting ready, deciding it's a good day to take the extra time to paint my toenails. So, with both boys on the floor, I start painting my toenails. They watch me, mesmerized. I hear a "mama, do mine too!"

At some point, all of the nail polish bottles are out of the drawer. I decide to choose my battle, and stick to getting job number one done, and then deal with 'what have I said about opening mama's drawer and pulling stuff out?' later. From what I hear and sort of see out of the corner of my eye, a careful lineup of bottles is now decorating the footrest of my bed. It's not until I walk out of the bathroom that I see that the kid has carefully balanced each bottle on its top.

It doesn't take long til bottle number six doesn't quite make it. It tumbles down and shatters as it hits the floor. Glass everywhere, and little brother now has a hand covered in light pink enamel. At least this happened after I finished with my nails, I think; and at least nobody got cut. I hand off the boys to the brother who is visiting. Clean up the mess... There really is no time off.

Motherhood... I have met my match. I have always been a really good apprentice; if I like the subject at hand, I will dive in until I perfect it. In Spanish, the term is dominar - to dominate, to master something. There is no mastering this motherhood thing. You can only live it out, every day. It's pure steadfastness. Constancy. Faithfulness. Even when the previous day left you feeling like you really cannot face tomorrow. Even when the previous day was so good that you feel it can't be duplicated.

Even when it rips your heart. Even when your own kid is dying. I am sitting at my grandmother's table. I have just taken mom to her bed. We've come back from a doctor's appointment. It has been discouraging. Grandma and I sit in silence. We used to sit at this table, the three of us, and share coffee and stories. But now, the two of us sit and eat (and cry) in silence. There's not much to say. Her daughter is dying, and she can't do anything to stop it. She will bury her daughter, and after that will take care of her children after she's gone.

Even when you face the unknown. Even when you are the one getting ready to leave your children behind, sooner than you had expected. I am in mom's hospital room now. It suddenly has become very clear that this is her last day, and despite the thirty years I have had her, it feels awfully short. I am full of questions. I have always assumed she will be there when I get engaged, when I get married, when I have kids, and the realization that she won't hits me hard and fast. My first question is "Why? Why must I be the one without a mom from now on?" She says, "I don't know." And I weep. I weep in my mother's lap. And she runs her fingers through my hair, and she lets me mourn her death.

I hear my mother's voice sometimes. I hear it, as I am rocking an angry wailing boy in full tantrum. She says, "the kid who is hardest to love is the kid who needs it the most." I miss them. I miss these two ladies who loved children. I miss these two teachers of children. Their ideas would sure come in handy now.

After she lets me cry for a while, I wipe my tears, and I figure that if time is short, I might as well ask the questions I've never asked before. So, I say, "What should I do when I have my own children? Who will help me figure it out?" And mom whispers, "Jesus will. That's all there is to it really. Ask Him every day, and He will let you know."

... And He has. And He will.

Teachers of What's Good

A long time ago, I read for the first time the following verses in Titus 2:3-5.

³ Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. ⁴ Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, ⁵ to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.

My initial reaction as a young woman myself was of contempt. I thought, 'here goes another verse people will use to say women are just trouble, some excuse to keep us under control, right?' Is that what older women have to put up with, a preaching about drinking and talking? How original. And was my future, as a young woman, cut out for me? Was I to look forward to the task of loving husband and children, and be self-controlled, pure and the more offensive to me, busy at home? Over the years, I would from time to time stumble upon the verse, and I would still roll my eyes. 

Then I started hanging out with teenagers. It was through those friendships that I started to open my eyes and heart to those verses. I saw the pain, suffering, brokenness that the lack of role models described above brought to the lives of the kids I was hanging out with. I thought about this verse again this past month, after meeting yet another young girl who at fourteen was having to figure out life on her own.

I'm not saying fathers are off the hook here and that women are to blame for all teenagers in need, but the girls that I hang out with have been seriously affected by the lack of a healthy mother figure. Some of my friends have grown up abandoned by alcoholic or drug addict mothers. Most of my friends find it hard to live in places where slandering and backstabbing by the older women of their community is the daily bread (sometimes to the point of costing somebody their life). And some of my friends have found themselves about to be mothers in their teenage years.

In the midst of all that mess, I have met some courageous women who have decided to walk with teenage girls and love them, and become teachers of what is good. Some of these women have decided to walk alongside teen moms. Most of them are ladies who have raised children of their own and understand that you can't do it alone, that the nights are long, and that you need role models of good to teach you how to do this thing called motherhood. Others are single women who have a heart of teenage girls and can see how hard it is to be a teen and a mom as well.

My courageous friends are both in Costa Rica and in Guatemala. They go with girls to pregnancy checkups. They go check them out of the hospital when no other family member will. They have enlisted their husbands, children, siblings as drivers and babysitters. They teach their teenage friends how to help their babies breastfeed. They go to birthday parties. They also get to be there for some of life's deepest pains - a baby who dies, a custody battle that is lost. 

YoungLives mentors in Guatemala City

YoungLives mentors in Costa Rica

They also invite their friends to know Christ and start a journey of faith, that will not only impact the girls' lives but also the lives of their children. Tomorrow, there will be 27 Costa Rican girls going to a YoungLives camp, to have the best weekend of their lives, and to hear about Jesus' love for them. There will also be 28 babies and toddlers, and a fearless crew of 17 childcare workers among the team who are so excited that their friends get to have this time away and hear the Good News. So, join me in praying for this crowd.

Girls and leaders at their 2014 Christmas party. Most of them will go to camp tomorrow

Time goes by, and now I find myself a woman with husband and children, responsible for keeping a home. And now, I know... It is hard to be self-controlled. It is hard to be kind. It is hard to not indulge in things that bring comfort. It is hard to not be critical of other women. And I am ever so grateful for those teachers of good things who gave me so much over the years and who continue helping me along the way. I would be ill equipped without them. I realize how crucial it is to have someone older and wiser walk through life with you. So, if you are a young woman, I encourage you to find a mentor. If you are a more mature woman, I encourage you to find someone to mentor. If you would like to learn more about YoungLives, click here.
 

Our Most Recent Trip to Costa Rica

Daniel watching planes at the Panama airport

It is a Wednesday afternoon, and I am packed and ready to drive to get on a plane with my 14-month-old. It is our first trip of the year, fifth work trip together. Expert in traveling with a toddler that I am, I am very proud of my ability to fit all of his junk and all of my junk in a carry-on. I even have my flat iron to do my hair (because since I never use it at home, somehow I am convinced that at someone else's house, in between work sessions, I will magically find the time to finally get my unruly mane under control). I am planning on checking the bag, nonetheless, because I still haven't figured out how to pull a suitcase and push a stroller.

We get checked-in, and I kiss the husband goodbye. For some reason, it looks like things have changed. Usually, they let us women with babies go first, but not this time. I have to wait in line like all the other mortals, pushing the baby. Finally we made it to the window where I have to pay my exit tax. I pay, not without almost passing out because the fee has tripled since my last trip. I finally make it to the security checkpoint. And then, I start the process. With the baby in the stroller, I pull my computer out and place it in a bin. Then, I take shoes off and whatever else I must put on the other bin. I then place the baby on the belt, fold the stroller, and place my bag. It is at this point that the security guard tells me, "m'am, you can't be on this end... you must move to the other line." Contrary to wisdom, instead of just complying with what an airport security agent tells me, the cumulative stress and frustration of two years of dealing with baby stuff, comes out and I just reply. "NO I WON'T". And he says "you must go through the other line. " And I reply, "I'M NOT MOVING ALL MY STUFF." We argue for a couple minutes, and I find out they have one line for men and one for women, because there is only one woman security agent that could check me. So, I leave all my stuff there, and walk through the other gate.

Daniel being pampered at the tia abuela's house

All hassle aside, we made it to the plane and arrived in San Jose at almost midnight our time. I stayed at my cousin's house, and got to spend the next day with family. I got to meet the newest member of that clan, baby Sofi, and I had a lot of fun chatting it up after dinner with my aunt and cousins. This is one of the perks of traveling to a city where I have family. I have been going to Costa Rica for the last two years, about twice a year, and it has been amazing to be able to have a little family time. I love that the boys have gotten a little abuelita love from my aunt there.

The next morning, we drove up to the regional director's house for meetings for the next three days. It was a time of sharing what miracles we had seen God do during 2014. It was a time of sharing about how ministry is going in each country. It was a time to start praying about the future and how do we move forward with the mission of reaching teenagers. We got to go to a local club one night, and then the next night we got to be part of a day camp that the Camp on Wheels had set up for one of the communities. What an exciting thing to see hundreds of teenagers having fun with their friends and getting a chance to hear the gospel.

Dreaming and planning

We left at 1:45 am on Monday morning, to catch our 4:30 flight. I was not looking forward to spending four hours at the airport with a baby, but we made it. Our flight home was delayed an hour, since they had to do some repairs, but both baby and mom were so tired, that I think we did not notice and slept the whole time. At last, we were home and we spent last week settling back in, retaking our routine, and planning for the next adventure that comes in two weeks! So, stayed tuned for the next trip.

The Theologian, My Friend

Almost two weeks ago, I learned that Dr. Emilio Antonio Nuñez, had passed away. If you are not familiar with the name, Dr. Nuñez was a Salvadorian theologian and pastor. He was a pioneer and a key influence in the development of Evangelical theology in Latin America. Born in 1923, he dedicated his life to ministry as a professor, pastor, and writer. 


It was not long before a series of posts and comments began pouring through social media. It was obvious he had made a profound impact on his students and the different congregations where he had preached. It was also the first time that I read about all his work. Looking at all those different achievements summarized in different ways, I realized what an important man for his generation he had been. Because, I had no idea. I guess I sort of knew he was like a big deal, but I really did not know.

I have yet to read one of the books he wrote. I never took any of his classes. I may have heard one of his lectures at some point, not sure. So, my experience with him comes from a different place. I probably first met him as an infant, because my parents had attended SETECA (Central America Theological Seminary) in Guatemala, which he helped found, later becoming the president and afterward a professor. I remember visiting el viejito, as mom liked to call him, and his first wife, doña Sarita, on numerous occasions as a little girl. Later, I remember running into him at the hallway in SETECA, where mom worked. Our encounters were mostly brief, usually a simple exchange, where I would say, "Don Emilio." "Rebe," he would respond. Sometimes we would hug. Mostly we just nodded at each other.

As brief and fleeting most of those times were, I remember very vividly the day he told me about how he got married. I must have been thirteen or fourteen. He had this pragmatic and matter of fact way of telling the story, and I don't remember all the details, perhaps because I was trying so hard to conceal the fact that my mouth was wide open. He was twenty; she was thirty, and she pretty much proposed. (What?) And just when I thought this viejito had shattered all my stereotypes, he went on to talk about how she was always ready to clip the wings of his ministry pride, at which point she chuckled - she was sitting right next to him, holding his hand, all that time.

When I graduated from high school, I got a gift from them. When I first opened it, I must confess I felt a little disappointed. It was a Bible. I loved them, and I was grateful they had thought about me on this joyous occasion, but someone needed to update them on coolness. It had a dedication, and together with the "congratulations...best wishes," it just read Psalm 37:3,4. So, I looked it up, and the words just blew me away. "Trust in the Lord... Delight yourself in the Lord." This had been a time when people had either praised my parents for their great work or me for my hard work. And there was this man, cutting to the chase. The heart of the matter is always a matter of the heart. Subtly and quietly, I got one of the most powerful invitations of my life. I am thirty-four. That has been the Bible I have used half of my life.

After his wife passed away, he came to eat lunch to our house very often. I wasn't around much, because I was away for college, but in one of those visits, he inadvertently made another powerful invitation. He was sharing how he loved learning about Latin American culture, how he made a point of every year reading the new and most read authors in the continent, so he could keep up with what was happening, what people were thinking. I could see this man did not just happen to live in Latin America; he lived Latin America. And that made a dent in my heart at a season when I was starting to see our culture's broken raw beauty. He invited me to love this land and ache for it.

But the Requiem of this friendship is that as I look back at the times of my life where he left a mark, I realize I was not part of his central ministry. I was not a student. I was not a professor. I was not a colleague. I was not even an adult. He had no reason to give me the time of day. I was one of the least of these for him. I think, in the end, his lauded wisdom and intellect sprung out of a quiet life of true love for Christ and for those around him - even those who wouldn't read his work; specially those who wouldn't read his work. So, my friend invites me once again to yet another challenge. As I look at myself busy with ministry that seems to be ever so important and pressing, as I strive to fulfill this calling and serve my generation, I am challenged to live life as an open invitation... and to give the time of day to those around me - especially the ones who don't know (and couldn't care less) about who the heck I am.