Testosterone & the Little Engine that Could

My truck needs new tires. I was supposed to get new tires 20,000 miles ago. I still have the same tires that my truck came with when I bought it, and that was 6 years ago.

The last trip, I was able to take my truck and although I was worried about the tires, I had a feeling it would make it. This time, I had a feeling it wouldn't make it, so I went with my gut. The night before this trip, Corona said that we could take her car. I had been on a missionary trip south of the border before-- she hadn't. I didn't tell her much about the rocky roads, or all the rough terrain we'd have to take her little midget car through, because, I mean, why have two of us worried, right? So I said, "you know what, we really don't have any other choice."

We took her little car (it's a tiny Scion). It fits 2 people comfortably, and 4 not so comfortably. We went up hills, through rocky highways, and then hills again-- and that little car just kept pushin'! It was a sight to see, really ;) In front of us was a V8 truck, behind us a van, and right smack in the middle was the little Scion.... infused with Jesus-petro!

We made it! Thank you Jesus.

I realized on this trip that I bond with kids. When we got to our first sight (we visited 3 places), I flocked to the little kids, and the little kids flocked to me. I love little kids, I don't think I'm nowhere near ready for any of my own, but I do love to hang out with them. I love to play-- I'm little and petite, and have no size or form to be an athlete-- and yet, if a kid has a soccerball I ask him to pass it. If a kid has a basketball, I'm gonna steal it from him. I will run around and I don't mind getting dirty or sweaty-- I will run around until my little chicken legs start to quiver from exhaustion! :D

I've been told that I bond well with boys. And my response is: yes, I do. They get me and I get them. I grew up with a brother most of my life. We watched WWF, and played Nintendo Super Mario Bro's. When we got tired, we'd go outside and I'd kick his butt in relay races, basketball, and hockey. He hated me. He hated being the kid on the block whose sister was better at sports than he was!... I bond well with boys because they like what I like.

I got my first barbie at 8 years old, and I had it out on a yard sale at age 9.

The only dress I remember wearing, as a young girl, is a first communion dress. Don't get me wrong, with time, I've learned to embrace the girl in me. I dig the pink, I can accesorize, I rock them heels from time to time.

But my essence has more testosterone than glitz. And I'm perfectly okay with that.

We visited a boys orphanage. It was the first time that I had visited one. When we got there, the housing director called all the little boys to line up, and they all started to come out and did as they were told. Their faces made me smile.

I guess what you'd expect to hear in a blog about visiting an orphanage was how sad it was, or how seeing those little boys broke my heart. But it wasn't sad, and I wasn't heart broken. Their faces made me smile. I wanted to play some ball, and that's what I did. I smiled, and played some ball.

I'm sure these kids have stories to tell. I'm sure they have horrific events embedded in their hearts and mind. I'm sure that their short lived lives don't do justice to the hard-adult moments they've had to endure.

Yes-- we can dwell on those facts. And we can cry and sob over their past. Or we can smile, hug, and play--

r i g h t n o w.

God put these boys in my path, right then and there. There's probably very little that I could say or do to obliterate their past, to erase the scars that they have in their hearts; only God can do that... I don't know what it's like to be left at an orphanage, to be left by my parents, to be beaten or abused... So really, if anything, they can probably teach me a thing or two, right?

But I do know how to love. And I know how to make others laugh, and I know how to play. So that's what I did. And through that, I asked God to give me grace and to help me use what I do know and what I do have to help create new memories in these kids lives.

"...But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead..." Phillipians 3:13

Let's concentrate on what is ahead. Let's concentrate on the now. Let's choose what we do know versus what we don't... Because there will be times when the past is going to be too rough-- times when there will be nothing we can do or say to help others with their painful past.

But we can strain toward what is ahead, we can smile, we can laugh, we can play some ball. And for that moment (no matter how small it may be), we can help them forget.

God Speaks: Tijuana, Mexico; January 2010

There's times when Jesus speaks to you through others, and this is exactly what happened on this trip. My bond

with these people was short (we were there only one day); but God allowed for me to bond with these kids and people regardless of time.

I got a chance to bond with a small boy, "Jerry" for about 15 minutes, but I fell in love with him in 5. :) Something about this kid screamed out to me, "hug me!! love me!!", and for those short 15 minutes, that's what I did. I didn't get a chance to know much about Jerry, aside from the fact that he lives in the small street that we went to; that and that he has a bike he likes to ride. Jerry and me were kindred spirits-- old souls that were put in this earth to laugh & feed off one another. We connected without saying much and our spirits danced for those short 15 minutes... I know that the next time I go, I will take a package specially for him. And I know that I've thought of him and prayed for him ever since.

... I also met "Carlos". I came accross Carlos while I was taking pictures of a family's home (their backyard is a dumpster, and yet the little girls that inhabit the home, along with their mother, make the best out of it-- they've designed a "home" out of old wood and blankets, a market, a dr's office, and a restaurant-- all in a small space about the size of a storage unit and with toys and trinkets they've collected throughout the years)... Anyway, while I was taking these pics, I saw a man in the dumpster area and piling up dirt with a shovel close to the home. Carlos reminded me a lot of men that I've seen in my troubles throughout Mexico. Dark skin, that reflect the years of labor kissed sun, dry strong hands, and the strength of a man well before his years. I asked Carlos what he was doing and he said he was trying to pile up some dirt together close to the small "balcony" the family had where the girls played. You see, the balcony didn't have any sort of wall or fence, it just kind-a slid off into the dumpster. If one of those girls were to fall from the balcony into the dumpster it would be like a 10-15ft fall... So Carlos was piling up dirt so that in case any of the small girls did fall, they'd at least have a soft landing. I asked Carlos whether he was getting paid for the work he was doing, because honestly it seemed tedious and ardious, and he said no. He said he was related to the girl's mom, and that he was just looking out for their welfare. He said that he had been out of a job for a while. While it is true that Carlos strength surpassed his years, his body still appeared weary (normal for his age, I'm assuming he was 50-55 years old), the wrinkles were apparent in his dark skinned face, and he talked with a soothing paced voice that can only come from wisdom. It struck me how kind-hearted this man was. There he was, out of a job, having payed his dues, and instead of relaxing at home-- there he was shoveling away, putting others before him, enduring the hot sun. Adding another day of labor to what, has already been, a long life of it.

I kneeled down, reached my hand towards Carlos, and held his hand for a good 5 minutes. I looked into his eyes, and saw humility. His hand, as rough as sand paper, and yet tender to the touch. I told him that God rewards those who put others before themselves, and he said, "You can't lose your faith. That's what you take to the grave." ... My mind raced with thoughts of the struggles and tribulations that this man probably went through in his life; and as I kept looking into his eyes I realized that there was nothing I could say to this man that he did not know. If anyone could teach anything to anyone about God, His mercy, and love it was him-- not me. Not only could he probably give me a 2-hour long sermon on the grace of God and the strength He's given him throughout his life, but he was showing it.

Carlos gives and serves when he doesn't have to. He works without pay, he works for others without needing anyone to notice... He simply gives, because something bigger than him tells him to do so.

I did not take any pictures of Carlos. I thought about it. I thought about doing a closeup of his humble eyes, his sun drenched face and warm smile. I thought of asking a buddy to snap a shot of us holding hands, talking--- me on the balcony, him in the dumpster with a shovel in hand. They say a picture is worth 1,000 words, but I tell you-- no picture would've done Carlos justice.