Thursday, March 28, 2013

Mexican Style

I've always wondered what the difference was between 'ghetto' and 'redneck,' when referring to something ill-constructed or thrown together to hold it for a while.  If a car is missing a door and instead has wood paneling, is that ghetto or redneck? 

Well I now have a third word to throw in: 'Mexican.'  There were multiple times when we just found a way to make something work, with safety, codes and 'proper procedure' all but going out the window.  For example, one time we couldn't find the mop, so Z just got the broom, put a rag over the end and bam, we had a 'Mexican style' mop. Or we didn't have a mechanical way to stir the mortar, so we got a thin stick or pole and started stirring by hand in the five-gallon bucket.  I'm a person who likes to work.  I loved it.  I loved that unless I buckled down and stirred hard with my hands and my own human strength, instead of pushing a button, the mixture was not going to be made.  At first Z didn't believe me, that I think like that, that I like to go back to the basics and do things 'old school.'

Then we were using a tile saw, which requires a water pump. Water has to be constantly put on the diamond blade or else it immediately gets too hot, sparks, and damages the machine and your piece of tile.  Well, the pump wasn't working, so we poked a hole in the top of a water bottle and started squirting simultaneously.  Where I come from, that would not fly, for one man to do that alone.  Or another time we were working above the stairs and had trouble getting up into the corner.  Of course, we didn't have a convenient Little Giant adjustable ladder, so they threw down a quarter inch piece of pliewood and put one single 2x4 under it.  That was definitely Mexican Style. 
I loved it.  I hate rules.  I hate regulations and being told you can't do it this way or that way.  We had a job to do, we figured out how to do it and we did it.  I'm not saying I hate rules, like a troublemaker hates rules.  I hate rules for the sake of rules.

Z was an awesome guy with quite a testimony.




I saw very few vehicles that you wouldn't see in the States.



Then we went to the dump. Well they call it the dump because it is where the dump used to be.  The people that live there are called squatters.  They just put a 'house' on a piece of land until someone tells them to leave or demands they pay for or rent their squattage.  I've only seen a more desolate situation in Guatemala.  I'm talking about dirt floors, four walls made out of wood and two pieces of tin for a roof.  We partnered with a missionary group and some local teens to bring them some food and clothing.  I know some people will say that handouts are just a crutch but the bible teaches if we see some of Jesus' sheep that need fed, we are to do it.  So that's what we did.  The saddest part was how many kids didn't go to school.  At first I just assumed they could not afford it but on my last night I found out that Mexico, like the States, has public education.  The negligence of these people irritated me.  How are your kids supposed to climb out of this cycle of poverty if they don't have an education? 




So I'm glad I saved my tax refund.  As I posted, I was going to use it for selfish purposes.  Then I decided I was going to buy a lady a car.  No lie.  I give her a ride to church every Sunday and her two boys a ride to youth group on Wednesday nights, with the church people-mover.  So I got to know her a bit and found out how she hated not having wheels, struggling to get to work and not being able to pick up her kids.  One time I saw her son walking back from tutoring after school, because he had no other way to get home.  This school isn't just down the street; it's a couple miles away.  She said she was looking to buy a car for around $1,500 and asked if I knew of any.  My first thought was to just give her my car.  I've thought about that lifestyle in general but I've realized how it would force the people around me to sacrifice, just to keep me afloat.  Then one day I was walking around the neighborhood, after a run, and I walked past a 1998 Lexus for sale for two grand.  I called the guy, got some more information and it seemed about perfect.  He said he couldn't sell it right away but I was interested.  I didn't have that much money, but God provides; I'd figure that out later.  I was seriously going to do this, until I found out that weekend that she bought a car.  Sooo I'm pretty glad I didn't buy the car right away. 
I was frustrated.  Here I was, ready to give more than my tax return, but the opportunity slipped away.  However, I reminded myself, it wasn't about how the gesture would make me look, but about her getting a car, and that's what happened.  I'm glad that opportunity slipped away, because a couple weeks later, I was able to bless people who needed my resources more. 
During my week in Mexico, Z and I mainly focused on one room.  I'm not going to say the church is in bad shape but it needs a lot of repairs.  I loved being around this congregation, because they put more importance in the people than in the aesthetics of their building.  We cleaned the room out and laid tile.  We also put in a small section of a wall, but they didn't have money to do that, on top of the tile, so I gave him the money for it.  Halfway through the week, I was like, heck, what am I holding back for?   We ran out of money to finish the tile job, so I was going to get some more money but I got like half of my tax refund and just gave it to Z and his ministry.  Then when he was taking me to the bus station to leave, I told him that if he ever was in a jam for money or needed anything else, to just tell me.  Sure enough, not a week later, he let me know that they needed $400 for gas to go on a mission trip 12 hours away.  I had a check in the mail that day.  I love being needed.  But it seems no one ever really asks for help. 
Growing up in the Midwest, the issue of race has always been centered around African-American people.  So living in Texas and especially on this trip, it has been very interesting for me to learn about the Hispanic influx and the racial tensions and issues there.  Naturally, as a Spanish major and a person who has been on two mission trips to Latin America, I have a heart for the people.  I really got to see, that past the food, the culture, and such, we are really not all that different. 

 "It's not about you." -Rick Warren



Friday, March 22, 2013

Sleepless in Downtown Dallas

As I have said before, I really struggle with patience.  I was talking to Z's wife about this last Friday and she wisely warned to be careful about praying for patience, because God will surely give you tests to develop your patience and character.  Lo and behold, that's what happened.  Saturday, my last day in Matamoros, was a slowww day.  I loved this trip, but whenever I get close to departure, I get on edge and anxious.  For example, in college, on Friday afternoons when I was going home for the weekend or a break, everything stopped. I figured out the earliest time I could leave and dropped everything to make that happen asap.  I never could understand people who would just hang out for a couple hours and just leave whenever. Sometimes I'd even skip class.  So my bus was supposed to be leaving early Sunday morning and I spent most of Saturday just waiting.  And waiting.  I laughed to myself, realizing what was taking place.  It was a test.  But little did I know it was nothing compared to what would ensue the next day.
My ticket said departing Matamoros, Mexico Sunday March 17th at 9:30 am and Z had me there by 8:45 am.  This bus did not even show up until after 10:30 am. Next we headed for border patrol and customs to cross the border.  As always there was a long line of cars and we just inched forward.  Then we got to the station on the US side.  The cars went to the left and got checked individually but since we were on a bus, we had to go to the right and we had to get off and take our stuff to get checked out.  There was also another bus, so I'm looking at this long line of people, with only one guy checking us one by one.  We finally got back to the bus and everyone had put all their stuff in a line on the ground so the dogs could come and sniff all of them.  Z's wife had wonderfully packed me lunch but they took my apple and wouldn't even let me eat it.  All this was taking forever, but since it was my first time I just assumed it was normal.  We finally got completely cleared, allowed to reboard and left for Brownsville, the city right across the border. By now it's past 12:30 pm.  We were supposed to leave Brownsville for Houston at 11.  So there were several people waiting on us to arrive, that were headed for Houston.  But Greyhound overbooked and like 15 people couldn't even board!!  I couldn't believe that.  They already had to wait almost two hours, to find out their wasn't even room.  I felt bad for them. 
This was the Greyhound Express which means it has minimal stops.  But two guys asked/demanded to get off halfway because they didn't realize it was express.  So if it wasn't one thing it was another.  All this caused us to get to Houston at 7:45 pm.  I had a connecting bus from Houston to Dallas at 6 pm and they told me it already left, along with another one at 7:30 pm.  Awesome. So they tell me I have to wait for the next open bus at 12:45 am.  I just wanted to go home, but I didn't have a choice.  Luckily they found me a seat at the 10:15 pm bus to Dallas.  Ok, sweet.  But there's one big problem: I had planned on taking the train from downtown Dallas to Carrollton once I got back to Dallas, but the train stops running at midnight.  So I wasn't sure what I was going to do. 
Through all of this, old Mills would have been pouting and whining and complaining.  I wouldn't have considered the fact that there was probably knowledge and info I wasn't aware of that was causing all of these things. I'm not saying I was devoid of any annoyance but I approached the situation with a much more spirited attitude and a demeanor that there isn't a point to cry about something I can't change.
We roll into downtown Dallas at about 2:30 am.  When I got on this bus in Houston, I knew there wouldn't be much opportunity to sleep, so I tried to get some rest.  Nothing doing.  I did the nodding-off, waking-back-up-every-ten-minutes thing for almost an hour.  That was literally the only shuteye I got all night. 
Taxi.  Yeah, that's it.  I'll take a taxi.  I wasn't even sure there was taxis that late at night but there was.  They were waiting outside the door of the station, in your face.  They told me it'd take $43 to get me that far.  Heckkkkkk no.  I just came from 600 miles from Mexico for $44.  I wasn't going to spend $43 to go 21 miles.  The train started again at 4:57 am.  I decided not to wake anyone up because by the time they got up and got to downtown to get me, it would have only saved me like an hour of time.  So I just had to wait for 5 am.  In the meantime I hung out with homeless black dudes smoking weed.  I asked one guy about the train schedule and as I was walking away he said, 'Hey I got some of that bud.'  No thank you.  I told him I'm already happy.  Later he asked where I was coming from and when I told him about my mission trip, he apologized for trying to sell me Marajuana.  I was going to give one guy some money because he sleeps on the train but didn't have enough for a ticket.  He got caught up with someone else so I just went back to the bus station to rest a bit because it was chilly and windy outside.  It was packed so I had to sit on the floor.  While this urban late night experience was bizarre as a whole, I'm glad I did that because I met some interesting people.  As I have said I love meeting new people, I just had never done it at 3:45 am.  So then I took the train to Carrollton at 4:57 am.  More waiting.  I just wanted to go home.
I got to the Carrollton station at 5:45 am but it is still almost two miles from my house.  By now it is starting to get light out.  So I start hoofing it.  I know a quicker way through a small construction area, so I hopped three fences and kept on trekking. I've always wanted to do that.  6:15 am and the front door!  I made it, after 21.5 hours of traveling.  I wanted adventure and I got it.  I shaved, showered, ate some breakfast and was out the door at 7 am for 5th grade on less than an hour of nodding off.  So one long waiting game was over and another one was starting.  Now I just wanted to go to sleep.
I'm glad it was an easy day.  These were good kids.  I could not believe how 'with-it' I was.  I mean my academic thought-process was hazy but I was definitely able to function.  Then I got home at like 3:30 pm.  I decided since I was feeling okay, to not take a five hour nap because that would jank my sleep schedule up.  That lasted about twenty minutes.  Just like momma said, it hit me.  I woke up at like 7 pm and got in bed.  I woke up at 5:30 am after like 13 hours of sleep.  Who says you can't catch up on lost sleep?  I did not set my alarm and I couldn't remember where I put anything.  I was a bit disoriented but I was good to go. 
I just have a personality that wants everything to happen right now, but the world does not turn on Mills time.  I want to cross everything off the to-do list and move on to accomplish the next task.  I asked for patience and I got a 21.5 hour test where I could do nothing to change what was happening, followed by a full day of work, waiting to hit the sack.  Be careful what you wish for. 

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”
― Albert Einstein

My Favorite Shoes

One day there was a kid that came over to help clean the outside of the house I was staying at. I think he said he was 19.  Z noticed he was wearing shoes that were way too small and not appropriate for the work he was doing, not to mention they were girls' shoes. I was a bit disappointed with myself later that I didn't catch this.  In the picture you can see half of this black pair of shoes sticking out.  Earlier in the week Z had asked me what size my shoes were because his brother and someone else needed some. He asked me because I had explained how much I hate American culture, it's materialism and that I was ready to give and serve in any way that was needed. But unfortunately my shoes were too big for those people.  Most Hispanic people hardly make it to my shoulder.  This kid was the first and only Mexican I saw that was taller than me.  So when Z pointed out that he clearly needed shoes and would obviously fit into mine, I hurried excitedly to my room to get my shoes and took them to him. It's usually difficult to get me truly excited but I was amped because that is what I came to do.  He was definitely grateful and immediately sat down to put them on, along with some new dry socks Z had fetched for him. It was such a good feeling, especially since it was a sacrifice to give those away.  It makes me want to just take all the shoes I can find, and anything else, to pass them out.  I'll be ready next time.  Now I'm in the right frame of mind and I'll have a better eye for need. 

 
I loved those shoes. They were my favorite because they were comfortable, versatile and durable.  I've had them for at least three years and they served me well. Now that I'm not walking all over campus, I only used them lightly so they were going last me a long time, on top of the miles my bro and I already put on them. They were hand-me downs, or as I like to say hand-me ups, from my brother who is a year behind me. Those shoes have been through almost everything and they match whatever I put on. I've even dunked with them on. The point is it was hard to let them go. It would be expensive to replace them with shoes as good so now I have to come up with something else. No way I'm buying shoes, so I'll probably just have to wear old/dirty running shoes or wait until my bro has more hand-me ups. Whenever I look at the floor of my room in Texas, it always bothers me that are three pairs there, on top of basketball shoes, boots and old running shoes in my car.  How in the world is it okay for me to have six pairs of shoes, when some people don't have any? Or when this dude was wearing girls' shoes, girls' shoes that didn't even fit?  
Dang. It's Saturday March 16th and as I am typing this we are getting ready to go to two birthday parties.  I take a shower and get ready to leave.  Then I absentmindedly go to put my shoes on..........and they're not there.  I smile to myself.  All I have to wear is my old worn out work shoes, dirty with paint on them.  I'm not a person who really cares what people think but I'm tactful towards other cultures, so I hope I don't offend anyone.  It's not 30 minutes later and I'm already feeling my sacrifice.  Heck yeah. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"There's only one way into the Kingdom, and that's death." -Leonard Ravenhill


I Do Not Believe in Vacation

I got back from serving in Matamoros, Mexico Sunday night.  Well, it was sort of Sunday night.  But that's a story for another post. Anyhow, I spent my Spring Break in the far northeast corner of Mexico, helping remodel a church, among other things.  The contentment, satisfaction and happiness that I feel as a result of this experience is vastly greater than any joy I could have derived from blowing that whole week and that money to bring pleasure to myself.  Of this, I'm more than certain. The bible makes it quite clear, over and over, that to give of ourselves is gain but to seek gain only is to suffer an insatiable greed.
"It is more blessed to give than to receive."-- Acts 20:35
“One man gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty.” – Prov. 11:24
Pastor Gerardo and I
None of the walls were straight, so that's why we started in the middle. 
We went and handed food out in this area of extreme poverty.  You can see the shacks that they live in.
Our time on this earth is short.  The amount of people who need Jesus, out of more than seven billion, is astronomical.  The desperation of their physical needs breaches on the urgency of spiritual ones.  There is no time for galavanting about to relax and enjoy ourselves, doing whatever feels good.  We have not the time to go sight-seeing, taking it easy and treating ourselves to the local cuisine and entertainment.  There is no way I can justify taking a break from the mission and call to discipleship, commanded of me by the Lord Jesus Christ.  If I'm going to spend money traveling, very close friends/family and/or serving had better be involved.  Vacation is expensive and I'm not okay with spending that much money on myself.  On top of that, when you go serve in place that is different, as a missionary and not a tourist, you will still experience the culture. 
There is a popular place for partying and young people, just off the coast of Texas, called South Padre Island.  I took the bus to Mexico and subsequently I met a lot of different people.  Time and time again, traveling gringos and Mexicans in Matamoros alike, had a hard time understanding my agenda.  They all just assumed I was a college student on Spring Break, heading south to live it up.  The hardest one to explain it to was probably the customs/border patrol officer, when we were crossing back in to the States.  "Okay son, so what were you doing in Mexico?" "I was, uhh, helping to remodel a church and uhh, serving the people there." He just looks at me.  I was the only white person out of two charter buses.  He scanned my body language for any sign that would betray my story as false.  I guess he decided that people just don't something like that up and let me through. 
I remember about ten years ago my family went on vacation to Nashville.  I love my family but I remember I did not really enjoy that trip. We went to museums and various places, experiencing the culture of the Music City.  Now I see my discontent stemmed from the lack of action.  I'm a person that does.  I cannot stand to watch life pass by in front of me, doing nothing, just standing on the sidelines as a sightseer. I will never go somewhere simply to be a tourist ever again. 
In the summer of 2010 before I was a Christian, I studied Spanish in Costa Rica.  It was a wonderful experience that holds lots good memories as well not so good ones.  Probably the biggest thing I regret now is that I used that experience for vacation.  I'm appalled at how much money I spent, just to have a good time and experience all the things the beautiful country has to offer.  Instead of serving and getting plugged into a church, I went with my 'friends' to a different beach every weekend, to the clubs, to house parties, etc. I didn't hesitate to regularly go out to eat to try new plates of food.  I was totally in the godless secular mindset of 'you only live once.' Most people seldom get to travel to other countries but I had a whole summer and I wasted it!!  Instead of working to positively influence those around me and working to serve the community around me, I only fed the goal of pleasing myself.  Nothing that I did, nothing that I bought, nothing that I experienced lasted more than that moment.  But if I had died to myself, served and gave my resources to help those less fortunate, that would have lasted forever. 




Vacation for the sake of vacation will never happen again.  I'm fortunate that the nomadic life I have chosen to live has taken/will take me to lots of different places.  This summer I'll be all over the States serving and after that I'll be in California serving.  Obviously that life is not for everyone.  I just think we should rethink self-indulgent 'breaks' and 'relaxing' and instead consider serving somehow, someway.  The more we pour ourselves out for others and the benefit of the Kingdom, the more He pours into us.  I'll take that method of re-energizing any day over sipping a drink relaxing on the beach, watching the sun set in a foreign country. 

"Virtue-even attempted virtue-brings light; indulgence brings fog." -CS Lewis

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Matamoros/Guatemala

I had not been at Greenville for a whole month when I decided to go on a mission trip.  I had never left the country or done anything spontaneous that would have fallen under the category of 'out of my comfort zone.'  It was an adventure that opened my eyes to a lot of things and the experience as a whole definitely changed me. It was amazing to see these poor people who had next to nothing, so much more content with life the most Americans.  I've cleaned every plate of food since that summer and my whole view towards life was altered.  It was the start of my love for Spanish.  The trip planted a seed in me that has now developed a heart for serving.  Before Guatemala, I ordered the same thing every time I went to a particular restaurant.  I never wanted to try anything new.  Now, it's the opposite.  I almost always order something I haven't tried and am constantly hungry for new experiences in general. I love trying anything and everything new. 
It is not difficult to come to the conclusion that my experience abroad in a poor country affected me much more than any difference I made.  I'm not saying I didn't have any impact. Along with my group, we did lots of different things.  My small group in particular worked with the livestock and agriculture aspect of things.  






But I have been left questioning short-term mission trips.  I am very grateful for the people who financially supported me; they helped me raise like $1,800 to go on the trip.  .......Eighteen Hundred dollars!!!?!!  I was there for a mere twenty days.  What could possibly have been done with that money?  The American dollar will go far in a poor country like that.  Now I'm not saying I think we should always just sit at home and throw money at a problem.  Jesus clearly says to 'go and make people of all nations.'  I just think we need to be more deliberate in weighing the costs.  I don't remember the exact numbers but I read an article once that talked about how it cost 13-ish college students over $30,000 total to spend three-ish weeks on a mission trip to South America.  The leader in the South American country could not help but comment on how that total was over half their yearly budget.  In most situations it is better to financially support the people already serving there and the mission they have worked so hard to build.  There are often complaints about cultural insensitivity and unintentional tampering with the spiritual component, already put in place by full-time missionaries.  I'm a big believer in building a relationship with a person as you walk them through what it means to give your life to Jesus; not show up in their life for a couple days and then hit the road, usually never to return.  It is an issue I wrestle with a lot.  If money is involved, which it almost always is, I'm on the side that says don't spend it.  If I'm going to drop big bucks on plane tickets and such, I better be serving for months or years, not days. 

I was so happy when I an opportunity to go to Mexico recently came up.  I was at home on winter break and my high school siblings were talking about Spring Break.  Then I realized that as a substitute teacher, 'hey, I have a Spring Break!!'  So I set to work immediately trying to find a way to serve during that week.  I was so excited simply at the potential possibilities of a whole entire free week. Very soon after, on a whim I ended up visiting a good friend of mine from college.  Side note: if my December travel plans had transpired the way I originally wanted, I would not have had the opportunity to visit this friend, or others for that matter.  Anyways, he told me he had a good friend in Mexico who runs a ministry!!  I was so excited.  It is in Matamoros, just across the border from Brownsville in the deep south of Texas.  I emailed him immediately and he was very welcoming.  I am stokeddddd, for several reasons.  One is the opportunity to do manual labor.  Not everyone understands this but there is just a feeling of satisfaction that comes from a hard days work, that you cannot get anywhere else.  Ever since I left the midwest, those opportunities are not common for me.  Secondly, I have the opportunity to go serve in a foreign country for very cheap, especially compared to going to Guatemala.  I bought a round-trip bus ticket for $88 and I leave Saturday morning.  I'm also excited to see the rest of Texas.  Besides coming and going to Texas, I have only left the Metroplex once, which is kind of embarrassing. Anyways, this is a mission trip much more up my alley: no rules, no insurance forms, no touristy side trips, no paperwork, no asking people for money, no super-easy volunteer work, etc.  No fluff, just Jesus. 

Whenver I mention the name 'Matamoros' no one has anything good to say about it. The place is rife with drug cartels and gang violence.  However, it is not as bad as it used to be and America media, without a doubt, blows it out of proportion and sensationalizes everything.  Anyways, as I said in my hitchhiking post, I do not think we should just toss ourselves to the wolves.  But when I read the bible, it is clear that as Christians, we should not be afraid of danger or to suffer.  If missionaries just said, 'ah it's hazardous and risky.  I think I'll pass,' how would those people ever be reached?
Paul was not afraid to go wherever God was leading, no matter the cost. In Acts 20:20-24 he says,

"20 You know that I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you but have taught you publicly and from house to house. 21 I have declared to both Jews and Greeks that they must turn to God in repentance and have faith in our Lord Jesus. 22 And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. 23 I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. 24 However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."
And in 1 Peter 4:19, it says, "19 So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good."  I'm not saying we need to find dangerous places and blindly run to them.  But if that is where God is calling, we should have courage and walk boldly with faith in His will.  I'm totally ready to get out of the concrete jungle and get away from this comfortable easy life.  I think we spend way too much time in our affluent and cozy lives, as well as our safe jobs and safe churches.  I can think of no better way to spend nine of my free days.  Let another adventure begin. 

"The only fatal thing is to sit down content with anything less than perfection."
-CS Lewis