sábado, 31 de octubre de 2009

Doy gracias a Dios por tu vida y tu amistad


I didn’t realize just how special my friendship with Debi is until this past weekend. Her younger sister, Loida, and I set out early Friday afternoon for Rancho Chico, Puebla. This little dusty town that I like to call “la tierra de Debi” or “the land of Debi” has taken a special place in my heart. I guess you could call it my home away from home. My first memory of Rancho Chico is of me walking down the streets of dust and everyone turning their heads to look at me as if I was an alien. It felt like an old black and white episode of the Twilight Zone. Debi explained to me that I was the only guerra (white girl) that many had seen in her town. Taking in the surroundings of this new environment that I found myself in left me pleasantly surprised at how dissimilar Rancho Chico, Puebla was from my ever familiar Cordoba, Veracruz. Let’s just say that Cordoba is covered in lush green while a thick blanket of dust covers the ground in Rancho Chico. Cordoba’s palm trees adorn the verdant environment while cactuses dominate the land of Rancho Chico. Cordoba is full of Abercrombie clothed city boys while real life cowboys with Levi jeans and spurs ride horses and donkeys in Rancho Chico. Horrendous thunderstorms threaten Cordoba while the wind likes to pick up, throw around, and twirl dirt in rotating spirals in Rancho Chico. One other austere difference is the issue of water. 100% of the time water flows through the facet in Cordoba while in Rancho Chico you would be lucky to take a bath with running water one or two days out of the week. So how in the world did I ever find this place and how in the world did a dust bowl with hardly any running water become a second home to me? The answer: Simply put, it’s Debi’s hometown and her family has become like my own…

Loida and I arrived around 6:00 that night, and just like the first time I went to Rancho Chico the Gonzales-Sanchez family welcomed me with open arms, doing everything to accommodate me and love me. During this quick trip home, Loida and I spent the days visiting family and friends. I left this weekend understanding the grace of God a little bit better and completely overfed from the abundant supply of meat and homemade corn tortillas. I do admit that it was difficult to understand their Spanish every now and then because I didn’t have Debi with me. It’s hard to explain but the last couple of times I was at her house Debi was my translator. This might seem absolutely absurd considering the only words Debi knows in English are “God bless you” but yes she would translate from Spanish to Spanish sometimes for me. All I can say is that God has created a special bond between us. I can only describe it as one of those extraordinary relationships where spoken words aren’t always needed to communicate. I have never met anyone who can so easily read my moods and at the same time discern my future actions and thoughts. She knows and understands me so incredibly well and I don’t understand it all because I can be a very closed off person. Like I said, I don’t understand it but I thank God because she has been a huge blessing in my life.

It took me going to Debi’s house without her to realize just how much I miss her. Debi is a fourth year student, meaning that she is in her year of practice. She is currently serving the Lord in a village in a mountain in Oaxaca. It’s going to be nearly impossible to try to explain in this blog how God created such a beautiful friendship between this American girl and a Mexican chica who thought she could never love or grow close to an American. Our friendship started two years ago in the kitchen of MITC. She was the one in charge of cleaning and what started with a couple jokes turned into a water fight and that’s when I knew I found a friend. Later I gave her a sour Warhead and told her that this candy from the States would help loosen her tongue so she could speak English better. She quickly unwrapped it and popped in her mouth only to be bitterly surprised. Our friendship which started with these practical jokes turned into a true comradeship. We have shared so many experiences together including going to Tlacotepec (yes this word took me the whole the week to learn how to say) and when we were there I was the one who ended up giving her my Pepto Bismol after she was so sure that I was the one who was going to get sick…. haha… and that’s not all that happened on that trip… She has made such an impact on my life and I can honestly say that I am a better person from knowing her. Over the past two years she has been there for me. I don’t understand how she sees things coming and I don’t even have to explain things to her before she already knows what’s wrong. For instance, how did she know that guy was lying to me? How did she know that I was going to make that decision? How did she know that I was crying? How did she read me like that? I thought I was unreadable but she sees right through me. And the beautiful thing is that she’s not American, she doesn’t speak English, she couldn’t read this Blog if she tried, she didn’t grow up with running water, and she has never stepped foot in an air-conditioned church. With that being said, we have all these differences but we have the most important thing in common; we serve the one true living God. It’s so significant to understand and at the same time so completely spellbinding to comprehend that Jesus Christ is not a white American with blue eyes and He did not die just to offer abundant life free from the punishment of sin to American citizens. Traveling in Europe and living in Mexico has made me realize that the US is not the center of the universe. America is an incredible country full of opportunities and freedom and I am proud to be an American but we must realize that our national identity doesn’t make us the chosen people of God. Our decision to repent from sin and follow Jesus makes us His people. Jesus Christ died to offer true life to people of every nation, every tribe, and every tongue. Debi and I are from different nations and of a different tongue but we both serve the Lord God Almighty and the Holy Spirit lives inside both of us and that is what makes this friendship possible. And that sweet reader is the Gospel…. and I dearly miss my sister in Christ.

miércoles, 21 de octubre de 2009

Red Rain Jacket




The day was a juxtaposition of emotions. Excitement salted the air like a coastal town but there was also that accompanying saline scent, which was subtle but undeniable fear. There was a sense of pride that you were now the top dog of the school but at the same time a humbling notion because you were putting yourself completely out there and leaving your beloved school behind. This was your moment. You were now a fourth year student and you knew what that meant. It was your year of practice. You would not have classes this year but instead a yearlong assignment. You were going to a place that the faculty chose and live among the people and put into practice what you had learned over these past three years. You were now a pastor, a worship leader, a missionary, a Sunday school teacher; whatever that church needed you were it… For the past three years, your professors had been tirelessly teaching you and preparing you for this moment. You had learned enough to know that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of the Bible but somehow by the grace of God you are now equipped enough to preach His precious Gospel. Your parents and home church had been earnestly praying for you all this time. Your American brothers and sisters had ensured you a free education and you know that they were covering you with their prayers as well. Where were you going? You didn’t know but you knew you were going wherever it was. It could be up in the mountains where the people don’t speak Spanish and the thick mud envelopes the ground. It could be in the middle of a prominent city or a small isolated rural community. You could be going to Puebla. You could be going to Chiapas. You could be going to Veracruz. You could be going to Oaxaca. You might be able to use your cell phone or you might be completely out of range. You might be going to a place where there is a flourishing church or you might be going to a town where there are only a couple Christian families. You might face severe persecution from the town’s people or you might encounter only small disputable church matters. You might have your own room. You might be sleeping in someone’s living room or you might be sleeping in the church. What will you be eating? Chicken feet soup? There is some weird food up in the mountains and sometimes there might not be food at all for you.
These thoughts along with many others ran rampant through the minds of my brothers and sisters. Fear etched the faces of my dearly loved friends but there was also this irrefutable light of willingness and anticipation in their dark eyes. Their faith astounded me. Here they were… in the midst of everything… I’m sure it was hard to pack, not knowing if they were going to some place bone chilling cold or unbearably hot….I’m sure it was hard to leave their families… I’m sure there were some tears shed on the bus ride here…. I’m sure a doubt or two crossed their mind… I’m sure the devil tempted them to turn back… But here they were… We were sitting in a circle in the Chapel… 20 sold out believers ready to take the Gospel to the ends of the earth… Nobody said anything for a moment just eyes darted back and forth from the floor to Dan to the ceiling back to the floor. Rain started falling hard on the roof with the occasional clap of thunder. The lights went out… Mr. Richardson spoke a few words of encouragement. The professors gave some spiritual and also paternal advice. You could tell how much the students meant to their teachers by their proud and watery eyes and choked up words. I felt so honored to be in this circle and witness this emotional time. I was sitting in between my best friend Debi and my pal Abner. I looked across the room to Oscar, Yoiner, Ivan, Cesiah, Marisol, Angel, Evelia, Tania, Suset, Danny M, Julia, Eva, Lucia, Cesar, Mimi, Danny G, Nancy, and Nacho and I was overwhelmed with not wanting them to leave, but excited to see them heed the call of Christ, and encouraged by their obedience. Dan read the list…. the list of names with assignments…. Nacho, La Cumbre…. Julia, Puebla… Cesiah, Puebla…. Yoiner, Vega del Sol…. Debi, Oaxaca…. the list goes on…. After the list was read the faculty and I stood behind these great men and women of the faith and we prayed over them. When it was my turn to pray, tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with God on their behalf. I thanked God for their lives, I begged Him to protect them from evil, and I prayed that His Kingdom would be advanced through them. And then that was it. Debi and Nancy, two sisters and two of my closest friends left within a half hour to two different villages in the mountains of Oaxaca. As we rushed to make sure they had everything packed, I noticed Nancy didn’t have a rain jacket; I gave her the one off my back as she got in the car to leave. It was the least I could do as I stood in the rain watching the truck pull away….



This actually happened the first week of September, I just recently found the words to describe it. And this picture was taken two months before Nancy left. We were heading back to MITC on a bus after hanging out downtown.

miércoles, 7 de octubre de 2009

Rambunctious kid … Rebellious me…





Working with little munchkins is not what they call in Spanish my “forte” or the word we know as strength in English. There are two things on this Earth that you can be sure of… #1. I will never be the first or second or third or even fourth in church to raise my hand to volunteer my time and efforts to babysit kids on Mom’s day out and # 2- I’ll never be that elated girl in the room begging to hold the newborn at the sight of that little wrinkly bald headed little eyed babe enter the room. With that being said…. Deep down, I do love little kids as you can read about in my blog titled And Kelsey Sang and I do hope to have a couple miniature Brookes running around someday- my own little moldable disciples. However, give me a rebellious teenager any day over a little rambunctious five year old kid. With this preface, I will begin my story of what happened today and how God turned it on me.

My words, thoughts, and Karen’s movement from 4:00 to 5:00 today:

“Siéntate chamaca” (sit down chica)… “Vas a volverme loca” (You are going to drive me crazy)… well, that last phrase shouldn’t have been in the future tense…. She was up walking on top of the kitchen counters... She was eating jello… She was finding a glass of water… She was looking for her gummy vitamin candies… She was flipping over my poster… She was changing the subject…. The list goes on… then finally for a moment she stopped and sat Indian style on the top of the counter in front of me… the poster of the ABC’s in the middle of us… we started with A and got through to letter D when she had to get up again… She came back three minutes later with her notebook… She decided to write the letters which took forever than wanted to write them again… She was ignoring me... Yes, every now and then she would repeat the sound but it took me saying it five times for her to repeat it once…. And then after that one time of repeating the letter she wanted to go to the next letter, and it didn’t matter if she didn’t say the previous letter right…. She wanted to learn all 26 letters at once with the least amount of effort as possible…. Then after I got through to the letter F she decided it was time for another unannounced break…. My eyes trailed her little body as she walked barefoot on the counter to the stove… She plopped down and took a large spoon out of a dark pot on the stove and started licking off the black beans…. You would have thought it was raw cake batter the way she licked that sucker clean… and by the time she finished, her face and teeth were coated by a thin layer of black beans… it was quite humorous and it caused me to take out my camera and take a picture… and of course my camera started a frenzy… she wanted to take some pictures so I went ahead and let her take some and then some more and a couple more and a couple more…. You can tell by my facial expression from the last picture that the words following this picture were “Karen, dame la camara” (give me the camera).
Sweet reader, let’s just say that my numerous and stern warnings that we were not going to play a game until after she learned her alphabet was to no avail. The game was Bingo and of course this game would never have worked if she didn’t know her letters. I couldn’t seem to do anything to keep her attention for longer than 35 seconds. I finally looked down at her older sister, Erin, who was patiently sitting by my side. Our eyes met, mine silently pleading for help and hers rolling back into her head. Her shoulders shrugged as she softly spoke the following English words in her cute and irresistible accent, “My sister is crazy.” It was undeniable and also endearing how she put an extra emphasis on the word crazy as if her pronunciation added depth to the meaning. She wasn’t just crazy but craazzzyy. After all hope seemed to be lost, I came up with a different game plan. I decided that we would play Bingo even though Erin would inevitably win because she knew the alphabet as well as she knew every word to her favorite Hannah Montana song. This would then create jealousy within her little sister which would then cultivate into a strong desire to learn the alphabet. I knew I could bank on little Karen’s competiveness and jealousy just as I could count on black beans and tortillas being served for lunch. And magically it worked- Karen got upset at how her older sister knew the letters which sparked a sudden interest in her to learn the ABC’s in English. I chucked to myself as I left their apartment, thinking of how effective my little devious plan worked.
I chuckled until God interrupted my thoughts with His Holy, Higher Up, ever Humbling, Loving thoughts. And all of sudden, it was as if a light had been turned off and a red curtain pulled back…. I suddenly saw the Karen episode replay in my mind but some major roles had been changed. I, Brooke Carter (the twenty-two year old college graduate), took on the starring role of little rambunctious 5 year old Karen as I bounced barefoot on the kitchen counters, distracted by the littlest thing, unfocused as all get out, and rebellious to the core. And then The Lord Almighty, The God of Jacob, My Creator and My Father, slipped on my human flesh skin, propped Himself up on the blue stool, and began to coax me to sit down because He had something He wanted to teach me. I knew He was there just as Karen knew I was there but it was a matter of me stopping what I was doing and sitting down on the counter, Indian style, in front of my Teacher and listening to His Words. What He had wanted to teach me was not hard because a) He was going to break something as scary and big as the English language down into the ABC’s b) He had a colorful poster with pictures, a song, and a game to go along with the lesson to help me learn and c) He was going to go as slow as it took for me to comprehend each letter. But instead of submitting myself to my Teacher’s authority, I went about my own business. For instance, I was hungry so I ate some jello and black beans. I was thirsty so I went to find a glass of water. I also needed to get up again and locate my gummy vitamin candies because I hadn’t consumed them today. Clearly as you can tell, I was taking care of my needs and desires; however, I was neglecting my most vital need …. I was neglecting my one on one time with God… I wasn’t doing per say bad things and yeah I acknowledged His presence every now and then as I repeated a certain sound after He had said it the fifth time…. But I wasn’t sitting still, in front of Him, soaking in His infinite knowledge. I wasn’t watching His mouth as He pronounced the words. I wasn’t watching His eyes encouraging me to take that step and say that letter that sounded uncomfortable and weird. I wasn’t in close enough proximity where He could give me a high five after I said something right or reassuringly rub my shoulder if I said something wrong. And then my time was up, and I missed the opportunity to fully learn what He had wanted to teach me. It wasn’t His fault for He had patiently and lovingly waited for me to come to Him but I didn’t take the time out of my day and submit myself to Him to enjoy His presence and fully receive what He had to offer. I in turn, was just like that beautiful black bean stained craazzzyy little girl and the question is how many days am I like that? It took my experience today to realize that I have been missing out on God’s presence this past week… It’s funny the ways God can grab your attention… It definitely took a little rambunctious girl for me to see the rebellious girl in me.

Please stay with me a little bit longer…. I have two big questions for you…. But first you have to realize that God is in the same room as you. He is sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for you. He loves you. He wants to spend time with you. He is there. The Creator of the Universe is lovingly watching you; in fact, He is calling out to you. It is a matter of you, hearing His call, stopping what you are doing, sitting down, and receiving Him.
Questions
1. Have you ever submitted yourself to God? Have you realized yet that the one thing you are desperately searching for will not be satisfied with things of this world? Your jello, black beans, water, and candy vitamins will never be enough to keep you from stopping your carousel ride of finding fullfillment? In essence, have you ever sat down and received His love?
2.If you have received His love, are you daily spending time with God? If you are not, it doesn’t make you less of a Christian just an unnourished one. God’s presence is something unrivaled. His sweet presence is worth stopping your busy activity and sitting down on the counter. What else is there to life than knowing and being loved by God?

O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
Psalms 63:1