Door Ministry

It’s hard to believe that my time in Mexico has flown by so fast. Joanie and I leave for the States in less than a week and I am pretty upset by that fact. However, my time here has given me ample time to know exactly what I need to do to prepare for a long term mission down here. First on that list is Language School. I had been hoping to avoid it, especially because of the great expense, but my heart breaks whenever I think on how much MORE I could do if only I spoke Spanish better. My Spanish has come along quite well in the last two weeks, but my pronunciation is awful and it leads me to hold back in public situations and prayer meetings where I would normally like to share or teach. I find I understand more and more every single day, but my vocabulary and recall when I speak is still pretty slow on the uptake.

The reason my comprehension is getting better is mainly because of the door ministry. The door ministry here used to terrify me. Before coming down here, I asked all the missionaries who used to live here what advice they could give me, especially considering my lack of Spanish.  They all said the same thing essentially. As long as I prayed with everyone, I have done my job. If I understand anything beyond that, I can do what I can. At the time, these words actually irritated me. Obviously, I need to pray with everyone, but these people are knocking on our door with very real needs, and if I wasn’t such an idiot when it came to Spanish, or if I had the money to go to language school, or if I didn’t have epilepsy in the language center of my brain, I could make a concrete difference in their lives as well! Despite my irritation, I knew that what they said made sense, after all, we are Evangelists first. The humanitarian aspect of our mission is like the fertile land in Egypt that is left in the wake of a (spiritual) flooding of the Nile. Of course we help when we can, but we are here to pray and tell you about God and Jesus.

So our first couple days at the door really weren’t so bad with the missionaries from Saltillo helping us ease into it. Of course, they speak Spanish pretty well by now. I will admit that when they left to return to Saltillo, my first moments without them as a language crutch were filled with panic. That first knock on the door sent my heart rate through the roof and sweat popped out on my brow. But my resolution was to never be a lazy misisonary. I could ignore the door, and just wait for Tono pick us up to go along with his ministry work. But frankly, I have lived far too much of my life in fear of the unknown. I opened the door.

This young girl really wanted a crucifix to wear around her neck, so I found one in the house and gave her the chain off my cross so she could have one

A rather large Mexican woman threw her self through the doorway, smothered me in a big half-hug/half-handshake, and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek. Now some of you may not know me all that well, but I have never been what someone would call ‘efusive’ in my displays of effection. But it was a good start. I picked out a couple key words like food and medicine, and over the next few days I learned several new words and improved both my ability to ask questions, communicate back and pray in Spanish. I haven’t felt this on fire in years. Of course there are words I don’t know, words to look up and at times, I call our missionary brothers in Saltillo or a Spanish speaker or two at Family Missions Company to help me translate and figure out what is going on. Sometimes I simply just can’t do any more. I have to just say, “I dont understand. I’m sorry” and offer them what I can give: food, water, and a bit of prayer. A couple people really just want a little bit of company.

Probably my most blessed day for speaking Spanish so far was last Sunday. The Saturday before, Joanie and I had decided to spend the day with our brothers in Saltillo, in order to see some of their ministry, meet some of their friends and colleagues and to run a couple errands that couldn’t be done in Gral. Cepeda. The day went long and we spent the night with Ana, one of the active teens at the parish Ojo del Agua where the boys live and work. The next morning, I felt convicted to return to General Cepeda for Sunday mass for two reasons; 1. We are on mission to Gral. Cepeda and should engage in the local community, especially for mass and religious obligations. and 2. The Sunday prior we were unable to attend mass in the town because of our attendance at the youth conference. I feel that it is important to try to interact with the people of Gral. Cepeda as much as possible, especially considering I am limited in what I can offer them at the moment. However, the boys had made plans with our friend Rodolfo (the one who gave all 8 of us a ride in his car) to climb a mountain outside of town Sunday morning and Joanie really wanted to go with them. So I left for Gral. early in the morning and made it back in time for mass. It was the first time I was actually without anyone I knew or someone who even spoke English. I sat in the back at mass trying to focus on listening and translating the homily. I actually understood about 2/3rds of it! That boosted my spirits! Then after mass Gema Garza ran up to me and asked where Joanie was, to which I told her she was with the guys in Saltillo for the day. I wandered across the shaded square back to the mission house. It was such a beautiful day! What was I to do? I didn’t want to waste the day, but I struck all the sudden by how quiet the big mission house is when you are all alone. And then there was a knock on the door! It was the whole Garza clan, all 8 of them, tracking me down after mass to inform me that I should spend the day with them and spend the night at their house so I wasn’t all alone. Thanks God! So little Fatima stayed with me while I called my family real fast and helped a mother and daughter who came to the door before we left for lunch with her family. The woman at the door couldn’t aford asprin or ibprofen for her teenage daughter who had a fever. This need is one of the ones I can really do something about! Over-the-counter painkillers and fever reducers are crazy expensive here in Mexico, and most people chose to go with out them, even though they can help with many ailments. I prayed with them for the healing of her daughter, and gave them some asprin and some food. Then her daughter pointed to my cross around my neck and asked if I had another one that she could have. I looked around the house and found a crucifix without a chain in a spare bedroom, but I couldn’t find anything to put it on. I thought about my necklace, which my Dad had given to me a few years earlier. I hardly ever took it off. That chain was solid! I could shower, run, clean and do just about everything in that necklace. So I slipped the chain off my neck and replaced my cross with her new (to her) crucifix and put it around her neck. She beamed back at me. My cross is currently at the bottom of my purse, but I think that for her to have a necklace is worth me not having one for the moment.

Sunday lunch with the Garza family is actually a grand affair. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and even a few neighbors and the oddball missionary all show up. I played with the kids, showed the teenage girls my camera video of my Salsa class from the youth conference (they think it is hilarious to watch Chris Alexander dance), and listened to a variety of family conversations. I was very blessed when Mari’s brother and Tono’s sister both took time to come sit with me and talk to me about my medicine, American politics, where I am from, our mutual friends (the past missionaries), and to tease me when, despite their warning, I pet the dog and ended up with four splinters in my hand.

Little Lalo and his abuelito

I felt I truly made some friends that day. I was no longer a random visitor here to simply give alms out to the poor (though I was doing much of that too) but I was starting to have a place in the General Cepeda family as well. I would have never been able to branch out like that with another Spanish speaker around. It has only been with my total dependence on my own ability to communicate that I have been able to learn how to do so.

Another touching story from our door ministry is Margarite and her children, but that one must wait until I post again, either tonight or tomorrow, as Tono will be here in a moment to pick us up for a prayer group! Until next time!