Check out our video on why we want to help build a library at our the middle and high schools of Mexico Nuevo. Add Comment Cultural Whip Lash ... 12/15/2011
 Thankful to have this published at Missions Untold as a guest post. All in a week’s time -- • I’ll get scolded at by several Mexicans because my two-month-old son doesn’t have socks on in 100-degree heat. • Some of the youth girls I teach will want to know at what age they are allowed to have a boyfriend. • An international climber will come into our coffee shop and invite my husband, Andrew, for beers around a campfire later that night. One of the toughest things about being a missionary is looking through grace-filled eyes at the cultural context you are put in. But even more difficult is trying to serve two very different groups of people at the same time, while not really fitting into either yourself. Andrew and I serve a local church and school here in northern Mexico, but we also run a coffee shop that mostly serves international climbers. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 9, are, quite literally, what we deal with on a day-to-day basis: For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings. At midday, the little tattoo on my left wrist that symbolizes hunger—and for me, Matthew 5:6—can be a stumbling block to the students I teach at the private, Christian school. But by 4 p.m., that very ink-injected 2-inch square can be a way to introduce the gospel to a hippie, outdoors-man who has several tattoos himself. In many ways, the evangelical churches here are as Paul calls it, “under the law.” Tattoos are usually seen as bad, drinking is seen as horrible, listening to non-Christian music really isn’t an option, and there are specific rules on how and when a teenager can date. Though many of these rules are ones I won’t teach my son, as a youth leader and member of this local church, I need to become an evangelical northern Mexican so I can win the northern Mexicans. It’s pretty easy to get frustrated at the ways things are often done here, but the reality is that each sub-culture works on its own rules and I can’t all of the sudden enter that group and tell them they are doing everything wrong. I’ll just get kicked out, or worse, harm the ambassador-for-Christ label I choose to carry. It seems somewhat counter-productive at times to be living a type of Christian life that fits the mold of the evangelicals here, but goes against my own mold (if I were a mold-maker). In the same day, I’m trying to be an example of Christ to 13-year-old girls who are new to God and new to church and I’m trying to be an example of Christ to a 28-year-old American girl who travels the world with the sole purpose of climbing rocks. In one context, I’m knee deep in repetitive praise songs and in the other, I’m swimming the ocean of Christian apologetics, and giving personal reasons why I chose Christianity over Buddhism. I wonder if Paul ever faced times where he had to become a Jew, an under-the-law-er, a law-outsider, and a weak man all in a 24-hour period. Sometimes I’m confused about who I am and who I need to be. But I have to remember the rest of Paul’s words, “I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings.” These words are crucial. I shouldn’t be serving the local church or the international climbers for any other reason than the sake of the gospel. Anytime I start getting frustrated with the rules of the sub-cultures I’m living in, it’s proof my perspective is off. I need to reread Paul’s words. It’s not about me, it’s not about finding my identity in my own culture or another. I must find my identity in Christ and in the fact that I’m here for Him. So if explaining what my tattoo means will bring Him glory, that’s what I need to do. If explaining to my youth girls why the church has rules for dating brings Him glory, someone shout an amen. Just as Jesus explains in Matthew 15, it’s not what goes into a man, but what comes out of him that can defile him … I need to be reminded that the kingdom of God doesn’t advance because of or in spite of culture. It advances when I can lay down my culture, my comforts, my Christian molds and say, “Lord, do as you will.” The Adoption Mountain 11/09/2011
 Andrew and I dated for a year and a half before we got married. During that time, I was introduced to a new sport: rock climbing. It was difficult for me to get into it, not because I didn't enjoy it but because I would climb with Andrew and his brother, Aaron, and Aaron's wife, Jenna. All three of them were much better climbers than me (and still are). Internally I struggled with this. Being the worst of the four of us did not challenge me to rise above, like it should have. It mostly just made me jealous. Several months into learning how to climb, Andrew and Aaron make plans to ascend a route called Jim Dandy, a multi-pitch climb. This particular one was three pitches. Having never done multi-pitch climbing, I didn't know what I was in for. I was apprehensive, nervous and just a little bit excited. The thing is, if I didn't make it up the three pitches, neither would Andrew. So I had to. During the climb, I was ticked off! It was one of the hardest things I ever had done and each maneuver reminded me of my weakness. I cried a lot on the rock. I knew I couldn't let everyone down, but I was being challenged what I thought was beyond my ability. Despite my absolute frustration: at Andrew, at the rock, at the stupid rope, I finished the climb. Afterwards, instead of thanking Andrew for pushing me to new heights, I let him have it. "How could you make me do this when I wasn't ready. You didn't let me train enough before we got to this point! I hate multi-pitch climbing!" I have since multi-pitch climbed twice more, and the second time still resulted in tears and words that flashed across my mind that a good missionary wouldn't type on her blog. However, the third time, I actually enjoyed the climb and was happy I did it. Adoption has been a dream of mine for many many years. We are steps away from learning more about whether or not the process is possible for us while we are living here in Mexico. It's a scary thought. What if we don't make enough money for them to think we can take care of children? What if we get half way through the process and a family member decides to revoke our rights to adopt? I'm only now out of survival mode with my own child, I'm going to go right back into that after we bring more into this house. My life is consumed by Cade now, and it's hard to imagine dying MORE to myself! It's funny how a dream is great when it stays where its always been. But the idea of it becoming a reality is downright daunting. On my run today I was thinking about whether or not I'm ready to start this process. I felt myself telling God, "Heck no I'm not ready! But that doesn't really matter. It's not about being ready. It's about being available for You to do as you wish." Moving to Mexico to be missionaries doesn't make much sense. We were never trained in missions work. We weren't ordained. We were just recently married— still very individually selfish. But God isn't looking for those who are most prepared. I don't know who said it, but it's good: God doesn't call the equipped. He equips the called. Just like Andrew forced me to climb a mountain I was certain I couldn't, God is constantly pushing me to do things I am SURE I'm not ready to do. But this is the paradox: when we are at our worst, God is at his best, making us better than ever. Sometimes I react to these mountains the way I reacted that day on the Mummy: kicking and screaming and angry at my leader. It looks like I'll soon get another chance to react. I'm hopeful for a better attitude. Won't you pray with us as we climb this adoption mountain? I found this old conversation between us. Just for some perspective, we started dating July of 2007 ... . I especially like Amy's insight into the whole situation. (Her words are in red.)
A New Season Starts 10/29/2011
We have enjoyed our time home, but we are looking forward to the start of the new climbing season once we get back to Mexico. There's lots to be done, and we'll try to be better about documenting the adventures on here. Keep us in your prayers as we travel over the next few days. We leave you with some words from Cade. Also below are the designs submitted for the Owl's T-shirt design contest. The winner will be announced shortly. A big thanks for all who participated!       The Changing of the Leaves 10/27/2011
 Bright orange, burnt amber, florescent reds. Autumn has its distinct color scheme, one I miss seeing living in desert terrain. We have been home in North Carolina for the majority of October this year, viewing plenty of red, yellow and orange trees. I'm no scientist, but I find the process of leaves changing colors ... and our perception of its beauty ... fascinating. A leaf in its prime is green, then turns red, then brown, then it falls. The life cycle of a leaf is so beautiful to us, despite the fact that the brightest and most beautiful leaf is one that is soon to die. My great uncle Anthony died this past week. I grew up calling him my grandfather, and there was never a moment that I didn't feel like his granddaughter. I remember one time, when I was 21, he told me in his thick Italian-accented English, "Uh, aren't you gettin a lil old? It's time to get married." One day I asked him if I ever published a book, if he'd read it. He said, "Well it depends on what it's about." At first, I was somewhat taken aback by his bluntness. But looking back, I realize that this hard-working man was nothing but honest, a quality I hope to inherit. In the world I live in, it's not so common to find honesty, and I often have to beat myself into speaking the truth when I'd rather just say what tickles an audience's ears. If qualities could be colors, this was what made Peepa's leaf of a life shine bright red. Hard work was his orange. It seems it's retrospect that makes us most aware. Autumn gives a tree a completely different identity. Everything changes, and the process of change is evident on a daily basis. Last August, Anthony's brother, my grandfather, Aniello, died. Two Decembers ago, my great Uncle Bear died. Our family looks a lot different than it did before we moved to Mexico. Many leaves have changed and the forest looks somewhat unfamiliar. But we must accept life for what it is, realize its frailty and recognize its potential. Leaves are always changing, autumn or not. Planet Earth DVD series taught me that the leaves that fall keep the necessary nutrients in the soil so the trees can continue to thrive. Thanks to Aniello, Tony & Bear -- me, my parents, cousins, sisters and brothers, and even now my son have what is needed to shine our reds and oranges in the world. Riposo in pace Antonio. This past Sunday we dedicated Cade to the Lord at our home church, the Refuge. This ceremony doesn't seal his fate as a Christ follower. It simply is parents presenting their child before the Lord saying "this child is yours Lord, we will steward him the best we can, he doesn't belong to us but to You."  Comfort is for the birds 09/14/2011
A little more than a year ago Gena and I had just came back from a longer than expected trip home. We drove at least 2,300 miles and my beloved Isuzu Rodeo broke down 3 times. With the end of our trip approaching we decided to buy a new (to us) car. Nervously we bought a Honda CRV and in less than a week we loaded up and drove south. Toward the end of August we arrived in Hidalgo with an espresso machine and many other things and we began outfitting the only coffee shop in Hidalgo. We cut the ribbon and opened on the 6th of November. It is a strange feeling living in a foreign place but starting a business in a foreign place is nerve racking. Winter and spring passed quickly and very differently from all the years before - Gena's belly was growing and kicking. Then we became youth pastors and began teaching the Bible in our second language. On the 4th of August my son filled his little lungs with fresh air for the first time. He was born at 11:37 pm to a very calm (because of the medicine) mother and a nauseous/nervous/trembling/ecstatic/tired/crying/smiling/uncomfortable father. Today, our dual citizen son is five weeks and 6 days old. Just before I began typing this, he barfed on me. Between all the events above I had settled into a place of comfort. Just when things smooth over and the days bring no challenge, God mixes it all up. My help with this matter are the many many many before me that said to God "you want me to do what??". To name a few: Moses, Daniel, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Jonah, Abraham, and countless more. When I read about others who were put in an uncomfortable place and did incredible things for God's Kingdom, I am glad I feel the way I do.  The Many Faces of Cade 09/10/2011
         This was our attempt to make a home-made passport photo. There are about 60 more pictures just like these. Turned out we had to go to a photo studio. Cademon's here. 09/10/2011
 Cademon Eliseo was born to us on August 4th at 11:37 p.m. The nine-pounder showed up to some happy parents and grandparents at a hospital in Monterrey. The little stinker is now five weeks old and enjoying his pacifier way too much. We call the pacifier a "cabra," which means goat in Spanish. The verb to suck is "chupar." Have you ever heard of a chupacabra? Well that is why we named it such. We are learning patience as the label "parent" has come to stay. Please continue to pray for us as we learn Cade's needs and wants and figure out how to direct, guide and grow the little rascal into a thriving chunkster. We have all kinds of names for him. The following list is a start: 1. Rascal 2. Chunky Monkey 3. Booger 4. Chunkster 5. Stinker 6. Pal 7. Buddy 8. Turtle or Turtlehead 9. Frogleg 10. Monkey Cade was dedicated at our local church here on September fourth. He'll be dedicated at our church in North Carolina in October. |
