Into Mexico

My first trip into Mexico with Roger was while we were dating. He was so excited to show me his "property" and to have me love the place as he did. Truthfully, I was skeptical. I had been in Mexico during my drinking days (more than 12 years before by then) and had camped there with my friends and the children after I got sober. I thought it was ok, but was not all that impressed. The first thing I told him was, "Ok I'll go, but I will never live there or ever drive there." He was nice and agreed.

That Friday night after I got off work, Roger picked me up and we drove over the border. The filth of Tijuana turned my stomach. We missed most of it because of the new toll road. Along the border was (still is) a high steel fence with hundreds of people sitting along or atop it waiting to gain access to the United States.

Once in Ensenada about 60 miles south of the border we stopped for dinner. It was a lovely place and the food was great. Then we drove on another 20 or so miles, farther and farther from the lights of the city. We turned out a curvy road and then a curvy dirt road, eventually coming to stop just a few steps from the ocean. There I saw that ugly trailer. I was wondering just how he thought the sleeping arrangements might go. We were just barely engaged. Yes, I know. He was going to be my 4th husband, but I wanted my life to be in order. I didn't have to worry. As small as the trailer was, there were 2 beds.

Morning on the beach is a wonder! At that time, there were very few homes in the area. The beach was pristine. I still wasn't having any permanent designs on this place.

I will tell you what changed my mind about Mexico and the Mexican people in general. I'm not talking about those who sneak across the border now. On our way to shop in Ensenada, the clutch cable in Roger's little car snapped. I recognized the sound. We parked and looked for a gas station. I needed a restroom as well. The gas station guy pointed us to a transmission shop a few blocks away. At the transmission shop we had trouble communicating. I was studying Spanish but had no idea how to explain clutch cable. With words and signs, we soon understood each other and the young man smiled. He put us in his car and drove like a maniac through the back streets of Ensenada to the clutch repair shop, where we were whisked away by another manic driver. He took us to the car, looked at the problem and took Roger to go look for the part.

I got left with the car. I had to go. There wasn't even a big enough tree in sight to accomplish that. I waited. I waited over 2 hours. They were back! No part. The car was a Renault and a little too foreign for the local junkyards. We were told to "speed shift". When Roger tried to pay the young man for his time, gas and effort, he refused. I even understood what he said. "I've done nothing." He could have taken all we had, but chose to serve.

We left the next morning and nursed the car all the way back to my home in eastern L.A. county. And he wanted to live in Mexico after we married?

After you pass through the border at Tijuana (San Ysidro) going into Mexico, you pass through a very small section of the busy border town. You see homes built into the hills. Homes is a generous word I suppose. Most of the homes are shacks held up by old tires. The are generally no windows or window glass and often the door covering is a sheet. The poverty is inescapable.

The next step is a steep climb along the border toward the ocean or Playas as they call it. As we would reach the top of that climb and curve left toward the first toll station, my heart would simply burst with relief and awe. The sight is hard to explain. From the time we married, decided to serve the Lord and moved part time into Mexico, I felt a sense of homecoming each time we reached that summit. Two more toll stations and the town of Ensenada and we would be home.

Most of the pictures I have of our early time in Mexico are hard copies and must be scanned and digitized. I wish I had that capability right now, but I don't. Suffice it to say that the coastline drive from the first toll to the last is spectacular. It looks somewhat like the California coast 50 years ago, clean and mostly uncluttered. I know that Americans have leased up those areas as much as possible now and are building as they have done here. This makes me sad.

As soon as Roger and I found Christians and a Bible study, our lives felt complete. Our teacher was a 93 year-old Bible scholar whose father had been an itinerant preacher, going from town to town on horseback. In the Bible study, we met her son Howard and his wife, June. They are founders of the mission I mentioned yesterday. I will tell that tale tomorrow and about how I was "called out" to ministry.

Thank you all for your fine comments on my last entry. I love to hear from you all and need the encouragement to continue what I feel is important to share. You all know that my life belongs to Jesus, but I want you to know what it's like to be a reluctant missionary as well. I pray earnestly for you. Blessings and love,

Something about a "friend"

This is Precious. She's my constant companion. Now don't get me wrong, she's not 1st in my life. First is my Savior, Jesus. Without Him, I am lost . . . a sinner with no way out. He died for my sins and I have eternal life. Second is my husband. We were joined as one in Christ. Even on days that I don't like something he is doing, we are one. Anything I might say against him I say against myself also. I try to watch my mouth. My children and grandchildren and the rest of the family come after Rob. Farther down the list is my constant companion, Precious.

Precious is not the first Pomeranian I've had. I don't know if she's the best. Precious is a dog ~ my dog. I have spoiled this little dog like crazy. Her favorite treat is to be able to lick aluminum top from my yogurt. Small pleasures. For the most part, she behaves. She runs when it's bath-time, tries not to be put outside with her kids and the Shepherd and has selective hearing. When I am ill as I have been for a week now, she is at my side. She goes into the living room to bark at Rob so he can put her on the bed with me. If I sleep for 12 hours, she never moves. When I am in pain, she scoots close to me. If I grouch at her, she ignores me. She loves me. It's really devotion rather than love I guess. Dogs appear to love and have emotions, but the Dog Whisperer says they are just dogs. I still say she is totally devoted to me and would lay down her life for me. I love her.

When I think about the devotion Precious has for me, I begin to think of the love Jesus has for me. There's no comparison. Jesus loved me before the foundation of the world. My name (yours too) was written on the palm of God's hand before the world was formed. What kind of love is this? It's not the passion that Rob and I feel for one another . . . not even close. I think the Lord put passion in our marriages to give us a tiny hint of the passion He has for us. Precious' devotion doesn't come close either. God saw my sin before it ever happened and sent Jesus to die once for all of our sins. Willingly, Jesus died. Willingly, God let him. Willingly, I have accepted His love.

It's not easy all the time to live in the love of Jesus. In Col 3:1-11, Paul writes that we should put away all of our sin and put on the "new man" in Christ. Easy enough. I don't want to murder or maim or live in sexual sin. But it gets harder. I also need to put away the smaller stuff (what I thought was smaller) like anger, rage, gossip, swearing and lying. That makes me cry. How often have I been angry, gossiped, lied or swore. I don't gossip, but find myself listening. For me to be the new person in Christ, I need to keep from doing these things. I'm not perfect. I'm doing my best and do not live in shame. I ask forgiveness and work harder at being more like Him.

The next part of the chapter is the encouragement to me. Verses 12-17 tell me I am the elect of God (chosen!) holy and beloved. And they tell me how to act. It's a guide book in a few short words. I do give thanks to God for my life, my husband, family, friends and even for my Precious.

Times are tough in this country right now. Worse than in many years. We'd like to blame one person or another, but it didn't take a day to create the mess. One leader after another, from small offices to the president, blames the leader before him or her. I'm not a politico, but I don't see things getting better anytime soon, if at all. I pray daily for our country, our leaders and the world. I know the outcome for myself and my Christian brothers and sisters. We have a promise that will be kept: eternal life with Jesus.

I also pray for all of you daily. Many of you know who you are. Many of you think it couldn't be you. Think again. I even pray for people I disagree with. As always, if you have a special prayer need, click on my e-mail link here.

The Needle Threader

I love the Christmas season! With great joy we celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. Right between our two small trees we have a manger scene. The other holiday stuff ~ Santa, elves, nutcrackers, etc., are among our decorations. Having an empty nest is tough for us and I usually get depressed near Christmas. This year we decorated the inside of the house to the nines. All the lights we would have put outside are in the living room. We decided to keep the cheer inside with us this time. Most of our Christmas e-cards have been scheduled and the few snail mail cards are ready to be sent.

Yesterday, I decided to get the stockings ready to hang by the chimney. We have invited our guests from Thanksgiving to join us again on Christmas. We have been having fun looking for trinkets for the stockings and a couple of practical gifts for each of them. I pulled out my box of sequins and embroidery threads and set to work. I had one needle already threaded with red. I looked at all the colors and got so excited! I haven't decorated a stocking in years. Then I looked for my needle threader. It was no where to be found and I can't see the hole in the needle. Frustrated, I waited until today to go get one. Since I was going to the store anyway, I stopped at the back where they keep scissors, needles, etc. I expected to find a packet with 2 or 3 threaders. Nope. Gotta buy thread and needles to get a threader. I bought the smallest package they had . . .$2.39 for 12 rolls of crummy thread, 3 needles and 1 threader. That's a lot to pay for a little piece of aluminum with a wire attached.

Home at last, my first project was to make ribbon loops to hang a curtain over our window. I threaded my needle with the right thread at which time the needle threader broke! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I couldn't cut the ribbon ~ it was a silvery shimmery one . . . with wire on both sides. I pulled the wire . . . perfect!!! It's just the right size to fit through the eye of most needles :-) I think I'm set for life. I just need to get to thse stockings . . .


Blessings to you all . . .

Giving Thanks

First, I want to thank Chris for this graphic. Oftentimes I totally forget to give credit where credit is due. Without your help I would still be struggling to get my other graphics and photos into my blogs. Thanks, my friend.

I have a best friend who takes care of me. He loves me when I am unlovable, helps me when I am helpless and shows tenderness at every turn. Yes, of course Jesus is the answer. However the friend I described above is one I can see and touch. He's my husband Rob. Certainly your spouse is supposed to be your best friend, but that doesn't always happen. I am grateful to God for my best friend. Below is a picture of another friend . . . her name is Precious.

We got Precious a couple of years ago. I've had two black Pomeranians before. The first was Sparkle, and escapee from the Fairfield County dog shelter. The next was Teddy. Teddy lived 12 hard years in Mexico. He passed away in 2001. We had other pommies, but I just fell in love with the black ones. Precious was my chance to fall in love again. I am so thankful to have her. One of the cutest things she does is pray. Praying is serious business to her. Rob and I start our day with prayer. If Precious is outside, she will raise a huge fuss if we start without her. We can't fool her, not even if we pray in the farthest room away from her. She jumps on the couch while we sing or begin prayer and calms almost immediately. I think she is thankful as well.

I am thankful for my sister Sharon. For years our relationship was pretty terrible. I took her place as the baby of the family. She teased me a lot (I am still sensitive to teasing). I went wild in my teens/early 20's. She took care of my kids for a while. We had an uneasy peace. About 25 years ago, I promised to take my mom to see her. On that visit we realized we had a lot more stuff in common than we thought. In an instant our relationship was healed. All our dislikes disappeared like water flows over rocks downhill. I believe God intervened and gave us back to each other. Sisters are good, yes they are!

Today I am grateful for God in my life, my husband, my Precious, my sister and for you . . .