The Dash in the Middle

Parting Words to MITC

2010-07-22T12:15:00.000-07:00

The last week I was at MITC a team from my church including my pastor was there on a mission trip. Usually when there is an American team serving for the week, we will have a special dinner the last night. It usually consists of a time of worship and testimony and then we all eat some delicious Mexican style barbeque chicken. During the time of testmonies, I got up from my seat because I wanted to take this opportunity to share what was on my heart. Everyone seemed to be there that night- the students, the faculty and their families, the choir, and my hometown church and everyone fell silent as I stood next to Dan (he always translates for the speakers). Looking out into the crowd, I got choked up and it took me a minute to gather my emotions and words. I knew what I was going to say because I already had planned out in mind from the previous week. And I wanted to share what I said that night on my blog. I am not sure why, maybe just to have it down in writing for me to come back to one day. The following are my words from that night to my audience....

To my church- Two turning points in my life are connected with the faith family at Broadmoor Baptist Church in Shreveport, Louisiana. The first was when I was a very self-conscious freckled face preteen who never felt quite good enough. I don’t remember much about that night at church but what I do remember is that conversation after the service. You see that night God unveiled my eyes to my own depravity and He called me to Himself. I don’t remember who the lady was or even everything she said, I just remember crying because I knew she was speaking truth and for the first time it made sense to me. I was in need of God and I wanted nothing more than to be reconciled to Him. That night I gave my life to Jesus Christ and an internal transformation within me took place. Thus began my journey of abundant life with the Only One who deserves the totality of who I am. Five years later the second turning point in my life happened as my mom signed my family up to go on a mission trip to MITC with our church. There are no words to describe how God grasped my heart with passion and desire to serve Him among the nations. I came back home that summer and as my friends dreamt of going to medical school and becoming doctors or going to law school and becoming lawyers, my dreams revolved around becoming a foreign missionary and living in Mexico. During high school and even college God fanned the flame that He had set in my heart that trip in Mexico. I pursued Spanish as my major and I joined a sorority with a mission mindset, claiming that it would be my Mexico until I could actually get to Mexico. Then God by His grace brought me to Mexico this past year. I am so grateful for my church that financially took care of me all last year. Broadmoor, thank you for sending me out, and thank you for not only providing for me financially but also covering me with your unconditional love and prayers. Thank you. I am grateful for the ways God has used you in my life. It was an unspeakable honor to be your missionary. Thank you.

To the professors and their wives at MITC- Paul remarked in his letter to the Philippians, “Join with others in following my example, brothers, and take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you.” I have had the blessing to live with you for a year, and I have soaked in your words of wisdom and I have learned by watching your example. I have watched how you fearlessly preach the Word of God, how you love your spouse, how you raise your kids. I have learned so much from you and I thank you for investing in my life this past year. I can only pray that eternity will show you fruit of your investment in my life this past year. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To my English Students- I was not kidding about the potential I see in each one of you. I see you preaching in English, I see you translating conferences, I see God using your English ability and this is all for His Glory. So échale muchas ganas. Be encouraged and keep up the good work. Do not quit. I had so much fun with you in classes. Thank you for everything. It was a privilege to teach you.

To the MITC Students, my brothers and sisters, my friends- I love you. I would do anything for you. You know many groups of Americans come to MITC and leave after a week. How did I get so blessed to stay? How did I get so blessed to go to your hometowns and stay in your homes? How did I get so blessed to meet your family and friends? How did I get so blessed to be with you on your birthday? How did I get so blessed to cry with you over hard times? How did I get so blessed to laugh and be with you during great times? How did I get so blessed to seek the face of God and seek His will for our lives together for a year? How did I get so blessed? Tuesday I will leave Mexico and as I leave you I have but one comfort. And that comfort is something God really taught me this past year and that is how to live with an eternal perspective. The author of Hebrews says we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. This is my comfort- that one day very soon we will be together forever and ever and ever praising Our God. What an incredible and ever comforting thought! But in the meantime you and I have work to do. I see myself now and I will always see myself as a foreign missionary right now that is taking on the form of a high school Spanish teacher in Shreveport, Louisiana. I ask for your prayers and know that you will always be on my mind, in my heart, and in my prayers. Thank you for everything. God bless you.

There is one more person I want to thank and that is my Savior, Jesus Christ. Without Him I would not be here. During my senior year at LSU I came across a quote from Henry Varley that really touched my life. Henry Varley once said, "The world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a man who is fully consecrated to Him." I am a living testament of those words. The key to that quote is in the end- a man has to be fully consecrated to Him. Once you give God your life, your hopes, your dreams, your everything there is no limit to how He can use you for His purposes. I want to leave you with these words, that they may be an encouragment to you as you continue to follow Jesus. "The world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a man who is fully consecrated to Him" Que Dios les bendiga.

Letter to the Real World

2010-05-20T17:40:00.000-07:00

A Letter to the Real World

2010-05-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Real World,

You have been on my mind a lot lately so I decided to write you, I hope that’s ok. You know there has been much talk about us lately. Some think that I’ve never met you but only think of you as an abstract concept that adults make up to dissimilate a youth’s dream and drive. I respectfully disagree as you know full well I looked you straight in the face today and I’ll never be the same.

Before the sun arose this morning you were already in the car with your husband and three children headed to the clinic in Cintalapa. After your seven hour descend down the mountains you patiently waited almost a whole day for an eye operation that you would not have had if it wasn’t for the North American doctors coming to Chiapas this week. I did my best to translate for you and the doctor although you were very hesitant to speak to me in Spanish because your Indian dialect was your native tongue. Twenty-three. That’s how old you told me you were. I couldn’t believe it. Real World, you have three children and your face resembles that of a tired forty-year old. You are my age, my height, and my size but with no question you have one life very different from my own. You work in the fields all day every day with your husband. Your simple smile with a few crooked teeth hid your suffering. I knew you were scared about your surgery and that’s why I was there when you were on the operating table, stroking your dark hair as the anesthesiologist put you to sleep. When you awoke from your surgery I was also there, sitting on the edge of your cot, and I watched helplessly as you shifted uncomfortably in pain from one side to another. As you were moving around your hurting eyes caught mine and you immediately reached out and put your hand in mine and although my white skin paled in comparison to your sun-burnt brown hand, my fingers were intertwined with yours and in this moment I was a part of you. The need for food, water, medical attention, and of a Savior was as much a part of you as it was of me. And in these predestined minutes I saw your fear, felt your desire, knew your need, and for the first time really understood your reality.

Real World, you are survival. You are strong and stoic but truth be told you are lacking and I pray that as my presence continues to crash into yours that my light would illuminate your darkness. Real World after my time with you today I realized that you are not something to fear, or something to conquer, and certainly not something to ignore. The lines on your face taught me something my higher education never could. They outlined your true identity and looking back on my life I realize that I have met you before, I just wasn’t conscious of your presence in my life.

I first met you in Baton Rouge, Louisiana two years ago in a coffee shop after your ESL class. You made me laugh and feel good about my broken Spanish. I know of your situation. I know you don’t love him but married him for a greencard and it sends chills down my spine to know what he is asking of you in return for your citizenship. However, I have seen pictures of your two precious teenage girls in your homeland and with tears in my eyes I can tell you that I don’t blame you for what you are doing. I know your girls are depending on that check coming in from the States each month. Yes, Real World, this was my first brush against you and man did you ever hit me hard. Then I met you again in Madrid, Spain on a subway. It was late at night and my traveling buddy and I were making our way back to the hostel. You tried to rob me. You didn’t succeed but left me shaking and scared all the same. Real World, you know it’s ok. I don’t hold this offense against you. I don’t know where you came from or your motivations behind what you tried to do but I can’t help but think that you might not know any other way of life and I hate that. I can only hope and pray that one day you will have a reason and the freedom not to do the things you are currently doing. In Havana, Cuba I ran into you again. You were so sweet and loving as you took me into your home and gave me something to eat. My heart burned and tears sprung to my eyes as you whispered in my ear about the desperate situation that you and our brothers and sisters in Christ are facing in this Communist ruled country. The scarcity of food and lack of liberty is widespread and felt by everyone. After Hurricane Katrina you had nothing to cook for your family for three days except one old box of macaroni filled with worms. Your husband will soon retire as the pastor, leaving you, him, your daughter, and granddaughter with no place to live. You made me tremble with your stories. I have never had a God-fearing woman like yourself open up to me on the verge of tears and beg for my prayers. Real World, you see I have had all these experiences with you all over the world but it wasn’t until our encounter today in Mexico that I realized exactly who you are and who you aren’t and it wasn’t until staring you in the face that I realized that my mere existence can have an impact on you if I so let it.

My Sweet Real World, may I never become numb to your existence and need again but let’s be honest. What is awareness without action? It’s a picture of a starving boy in Africa on a wall in an air-conditioned museum. Strolling across the cold marble floors, spectators curiously approach the picture and gasp as they realize the skeleton wrapped in smooth black skin is a little boy staring back at them. Undoubtedly, the spectators are touched, their hearts burn, and maybe even a few will cry but most all if not all will walk away, pushing through the glass doors out of the museum. They will be back to their own lives and on to lunch. And the little boy will stay there on the museum wall… desolate and hungry...

Oh praise God my eyes have been open not only to your reality but my own reality. You and I are very different but you have always been the same and it was me who needed a divine wakeup call. I apologize that you were the first one to reach out for my hand but all the same I thank God that you did because I find great inexpressible joy in helping you. Now that I know who you really are in the context of who I really am I understand how I can relate to you. God willing, I will continue to feed that hungry little boy on the museum wall. I will feed that hungry little boy on the museum wall because that’s the heart of my Master. He loves you Real World. Oh how He dearly loves you!

Well, Real World, I need to go for now but let me close with this God forbid I ever forget your face. However, memories of your worn face will never suffice and besides I am sure you will not be easily erased from my mind. No, I will always see you off in the distance in my wandering thoughts, in an occasional dream, in my sporadic prayers, and in my daily life. So after today my heart’s cry is not God forbid I ever forget your face however more exact God forbid I ever stop reaching out my hand to help you.

May my God bless you and keep you and make His face shine upon you. I love you but not as much as He does.

Sincerely His,
bc

Update on Sergio

2010-04-26T19:28:00.000-07:00

The following is an email I recieved from a friend who went to meet and visit Sergio, the boy that I wrote about in my blogs Behind the Mask.

Hola,...

Que puedo decir,... "what can I say",... I arrived on time today to pick up the donation for the home, I have to say that I was very emocionado por visitar a Sergio and meet him even when he didn't know I was coming,... I arrived with a big smile and wondering how was the moment going to be due he didn't know me;... I started looking to find where he lived because in the address it didn't say which number the house was, so I asked only one time and an old lady told me; Oh Sergio lives in that little house with blue windows; I thanked her and started walking to the house, when I got there my heart was beating fast and with a smile I saw a lady on a couch sitting and I asked her, Is Sergio Home? she looked at me and asked me who's looking for him and I said,... long time ago he went to a Clinic in Cintalapa called "Peña de Horeb" in that instant the lady walked to the door, opened it and told me Come on in!!!!! I saw how the moment changed and she allowed me to get into her home only by knowing that I was coming from the Clinic or something similar; and we started talking a bit and I told her that Brooke a girl who translated for the clinic during that campaign met Sergio, she had talked to him and sent him a Bible and a Book, in that moment she saw my eyes and told me OH I Remember Her!!!! She is a white pretty girl, and i said, YOU'RE Right! lol; She told me, Sergio isn't home because he's at his Therapy so I asked her at what time he was arriving, she told me around 4 or 5,... I explained to her that i needed to go to Tuxtla to do some other things but that I was going to come back to see if he was there around 2:30, she told me Yes, maybe he'll be here!, so I said bye to sergio’s mom and his brothers and I left,.....

Around 2:00; I drove to her house again, I got there right on time 2:33 i guess and I walked over to her house, and guess what!!!! Sergio was there!!! I was so happy about that!, cuz then I could give the Bible to him en persona!, so I said, Hey Sergio, como estas? he said Fine!!!, I introduced myself and asked him, do you remember brooke? the girl who talked to you when you were in the clinic? he said Yes! I remember her,.... ""Well Sergio, she sent this to you"" you should see how happy he was, he told me, she told me that was sending them but i thought that she forgot and I said, Nope, here they are just for you!!! he said, Thank You! I shared a couple of words with him and at the end we took a picture, actually only two, the ones i'm attaching! It Was a BLESSING to my life,! and Again, Brooke you have a wonderful heart! I Admire you, and please let me express this cuz I can't keep it on my heart, at your young age you are a blessing to my life, I'm learning so much about you and it's so amazing! keep looking to God and He'll do the even the littlest dream that you keep on your heart, I'm 100% Sure!

Gracias por enseñarme mucho a travez de esta experiencia con Sergio brooke!

Thank You!
I Miss U

Blessings
David

My trip to la Fuente

2010-04-16T08:33:00.000-07:00

My trip to la Fuente

2010-04-04T07:34:00.000-07:00

Oaxaca. A word that once provoked mental images of poverty and accompanying sensations of sneezing, headache, and watery eyes has become a word that means something completely different and something even beautiful to me. I have to be honest and admit that I was not looking forward to my week long trip to the poorest state in Mexico but I was willing and packed after I read the desperate message from my sweet friend, Debi, who is serving her year of practice in a town called Fuente Misteriosa (Mysterious Fountain). She was discouraged, heartbroken, and needing me and that’s all it took for me to make arrangements and pack some food to give away and my allergy medicine. I left the day the second and third year students went on their week of missions so it worked out that a second year student, Jesús, was going to the Fuente so I was able to travel with him gracias a Dios. Hermano Jorge drove a truck full of students including me as far as Tuxtepec, Oaxaca. Once we made it to Tuxtepec, we unloaded and went our separate ways as quickly and efficiently as possible. Jesús, Leslie, who was going to a nearby town, and I bought tickets to ride in a truck to la Fuente from Tuxtepec. After an hour of driving through the hills we arrived to the village where my best friend was living. I honestly don’t know how to creatively continue this blog all I know is that I want to document my past week. It’s hard to find the words to describe the amazing experiences I had. I know I was given a very unique opportunity to live and work alongside two Mexican missionaries. Some unforgettable memories from the week include the following: walking through the muddy streets with Debi and Jesús, visiting the elderly, praying for the sick, hiking to another town to have a church service on a front porch of a believer’s house, conducting different Bible Studies, living in a church member's house, depending on members of the church for every meal, swimming in the river, laughing until my insides hurt, singing praises on the roof under the stars, and learning how to make tortillas.

A couple of specific memories

1. Lately God has been convicting me and really working on my heart concerning His heart and desire to help the poor. Before I left I wanted to use some of the resources God had given me to buy some food to take to the village because last time Debi was at MITC she told me about a destitute family living there. Of course, I went to Walmart and I shopped with my American mentality. What I mean is I walked through the aisles remembering the numerous times my church ran can food drives and the times at Disciple Now where we would go and buy food for different families in the community. So naturally I grabbed some bags of spaghetti, Prego sauce for the spaghetti, bag of dried vegetables, milk, juice, cereal, and of course two family size boxes of Macroni and Cheese, peanut butter, and strawberry jam. These are the essentials, right? It really helped that Cordoba had a Walmart because it was easy to find the food I was looking for. By the time I packed all the food I had bought, I hardly had any room left for my own clothes. It's safe to say that my suitcase weighed a TON. I knew it would take a miracle to get this suitcase where I was going. My miracle turned out to be stubborn but physically strong Jesús because he insisted on carrying my suitcase without any help up the hill from where the truck dropped us off. I really didn’t think he was going to make it but gracias a Dios he did. The funniest part happened when I unloaded by suitcase to show Debi the goods I brought. I could tell something was wrong as she tried her best not to laugh. She said, “Now Brooke this is really really really good. It’s all good. It’s ok. This is good.” I interrupted her ongoing praises as I said, “Debi, just tell me what is it. What’s wrong?” She continued, “Well Brooke, you bought all American food. People especially here in the village don’t eat things like this. They wont know what Macroni and Cheese even is. I don't know what this is. What is this?” We both just busted out laughing for the next couple of minutes. Then Debi said, "Brooke, you have been living at the school for seven months now cooking black beans every week and you didn't think to buy any beans?" We laughed even harder as I told her that I wasn't going to make anyone eat something that I didn't like and the curious thing is that it never occured to me to buy beans. Well all this to say that I tried but everything did work out perfectly in the end. The family we were staying with lived in the States for three years so we let them have the Macroni and Cheese and the Prego sauce. The mother of the family was ecstatic because she told me her little boy loved Macroni and Cheese and he hadn’t had it in a really long time and the last day we stayed at her house she cooked us some spaghetti with the Prego sauce that we gave her. It was excellent and my first American meal in a long time. Debi kept the peanut butter herself and we served cereal one morning with the children and some of them wanted the strawberry jam in their cereal so that’s what we did with that. The rest of the food we were able to give away to families in need.

2. I’ll never forget the day we went to visit Hermana María. She was an older lady with a face full of wrinkles and she lived in a palmed roof house with strips of wood as walls. The house was only one small room with a dirt floow. She had no family and almost no possessions. She hardly spoke any Spanish but it was amazing how Debi was able to communicate with her. Hermana Maria kept thanking us for coming because she kept telling us that she has no one. My heart broke as we were in her house. I gave her most of the food that I brought (except the American food that she wouldn’t know what it was) and after I gave her the food she went to the back of her house with a plastic bag. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until she came back and the plastic bag was filled with eggs, at least eight of them. She then stretched out her arm, giving me the plastic bag. I just stared at the bag and then looked back at her. There was no way I could take this gift. She had NOTHING and she wanted to give me from her the little food supply that she had. My heart broke as I received her gift. There was nothing I could do. I had to receive it and I did.

3. Something I have learned at MITC is that when you go out into these villages you have to eat everything they give you because a lot of times the people are giving you the only food that they have and it would be very offensive not to accept it and eat all of it. Without a doubt my biggest struggle while I was in Oaxaca was eating all the food at each meal. Each day Debi goes to a different house to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Breakfast Sunday morning was a very different and unpleasant experience for me because it was the first time I ate a whole bowl of something while trying to figure out what exactly I was eating. It was eggs and hot sauce but it had some kind of meat in it that smelled and tasted fishy. As soon as we left the house my first question for Debi and Jesús was “What in the world did we just eat?” to which Debi responded "sardines". My stomach did not take it well that day. Then monday morning came with no compassion for my stomach nor my taste buds. This morning we headed to the main church leader’s house to eat breakfast. I remember sitting around the table as his daughter put a bowl in front of me with enough food for three people to eat. I studied meticulously the contents of my bowl and I then decided that it was cubed potatoes, hot sauce, and some unknown substance that had a fishy smell. I immediately thought sardines and looked around the kitchen for evidence until my eyes rested on the six opened canes of tuna and my heart sank. I hate tuna. Oh man, how I hate tuna! … and then for the tuna to be mixed with potatoes and then for that to be mixed with hot sauce and then enough of it to feed three people… I wanted to cry. I really honestly wanted to cry. I felt as if my whole body shook in repulsion as I loaded my mouth with the first spoonful. I was stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I couldn’t refuse the food but I knew that my body would sure enough refuse it if I didn't. I prayed for a way out. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen minutes passed. Debi and Jesús were almost done eating all the food on their plates and I still had a bowl full. I cried inwardly for God to give me a way out then suddenly an idea popped in my mind. I knew for my idea to play out I had to go into stealth mode. I took my blue vera bradly bag that was hanging on the left side of my chair and moved it to the right side of my chair in one inconspicuous motion. You know where I am going with this Sweet Reader? Well I knew I couldn’t just dump the bowl into my bag because that would be too obvious but I also knew that I couldn’t sneak the food in my bag one spoonful at a time because that would take too long because there was too much food left on my plate so I came up with my own gameplan. I reached for one of the big tortillas that were in the middle of the table as I joined in on the conversation with a simple remark. Then as the conversation turned from me and flowed between my two missionary friends and our hospitable lady of the house, I wrapped as much potato/tuna/hot sauce concoction as I could into the corn tortilla and waited for the perfect moment to slide the overstuffed tortilla into my bag. The moment came and my bowl suddenly became half empty. I took another tortilla and with the same stealth mode I finished empyting my plate. I sighed with a breath of relief and my stomach rejoiced as I looked down at my now empty bowl staring back at me. Maybe I was cut out for this missionary work I thought. After we left, we weren’t ten yards away from the house when Debi looked up at me and asked me what I did with the food. I panicked wondering if she took notice of what I what I did. I voiced my concerns and she replied that she didn’t see me do anything but she knew me well enough to know that I didn’t down my plate of food in 2 minutes especially something I didn’t like. I told her that she did in fact know me well and Debi and Jesús both cracked up laughing as I opened up my bag and asked if anyone wanted seconds.

Justo a tiempo 2

2010-03-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

So this is my second blog titled Justo a Tiempo. I didn’t plan on this and you may wonder why and you may even wonder what it means in English for my non-Spanish speaking friends. Justo a tiempo means right on time. I got to Cordoba with the letter for Mary justo en tiempo. And this past week God sent me some much needed love and encouragement justo a tiempo.

Last week I woke up with bug bites on my stomach. And then the next day they seemed to spread from my stomach to my back and then to my neck. This seemed to top off the difficult week I was having. It had gotten to point in my ministry where I felt very lonely. And I was realizing that I wasn’t made to do ministry alone. Even Jesus Himself did ministry with others for He had His 12 disciples. At this point I felt that it didn’t matter that I had been thoroughly immersed in the Mexican culture for 9 months, I still couldn’t completely relate to my brothers and sisters here. The students are my age and have the Holy Spirit living inside them but we still see the world a little differently because of our past upbringing. Whether I like or not, I am a product of my culture. I was raised in the beautiful U.S. I grew up speaking English. I grew up eating pop tarts. I grew up in an air-conditioned house. I grew up with a washing machine. I grew up in a town with nearly a church on every other street corner. I grew up driving a car by age sixteen. I grew up watching TV and playing on the computer. I grew up in an affluent society where you were taught that your dreams were within your reach with hard work and education. Now when I accepted Christ as my Savior, He changed everything. I saw the world with a completely new perspective but I still have my American customs and this American default mindset. Anyway, all this to say that there are differences between the American culture and the very distinct cultures of Mexico. And sometimes I feel misunderstood in daily conversations. I guess what I am trying to say is I have to work a lot harder at my relationships with the people down here because we have to cross over cultural lines. I wouldn’t give anything for my time here, I have seen God work in my life and through my life in ways unimaginable but there comes times when all I want is to curl up beneath my electric blanket at home or eat some Cheez-its and talk about LSU football or about Garth Brooks returning to the music industry. So here I was in Mexico, feeling lonely and with bug bites that itched like crazy. And God in His great mercy sent me help justo a tiempo.

“When is the next American group coming?” I asked one morning in Dan’s office.
“Actually, there is a small group of college aged students coming Friday.” he coolly replied.
I perked up instantly. “Where are they from?” I inquired.
“Christ fellowship” he answered as if the name of the church gave away the origin and I was ok with that. I didn’t press further; it didn’t matter to me if they were from Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Kentucky, or Ohio. I was just so excited that some people my age were coming down.

I stayed up late that Friday night, reading a John Piper book on my couch, until I heard the van pull up and people unload. I had to calm myself down before I left my room because I didn’t want to scare the weary travelers with my enthusiasm and excitement of seeing and meeting people that looked like me and talked like me. So I opened the door and my eyes peered out into the night looking for the six young people. I found them unloading their suitcases next to the apartment building. I immediately walked over, introduced myself, grabbed a handle on the remaining suitcase, and followed them to their rooms.

“So where ya’ll from?”I asked eagerly.
“We’re from Shreveport, Louisiana.” one of the girls answered.

I can’t tell you how unexpectantly and how sweet the name of my hometown rang in the dark night. And that’s when I thought, “oh, that’s why Dan just said the name of the church when I asked him where they were coming from. He thought I would know that church.” It all made sense now and I was ecstatic about people my age and from my own hometown spending the week with me. Thus began one of my favorite weeks here Mexico.

Mallory, Ashley, Tommy, Allyson, David, and Patrick came into my life justo a tiempo. This week God used this team to touch many lives here including my own because their mere presence was a sweet medicine to my soul. Two of the girls were my age and in fact one was a teacher at a school that I was looking to work at. The coincidences and the friends we had in common was ridiculous to the point of being very humorous. They worked mostly at the school this week, doing construction projects but we did go to a village in a mountain for a church service and to watch some baptisms. Only two from the group had been to MITC before so it was great to have some newcomers. I really enjoy watching Americans experience Mexico for the first time, it’s just something special and unique about your first time at MITC and anyone who has been here knows what I am talking about. It’s just something about your first glance at the incredible snow-capped volcano on Jorge’s roof, or it’s just something about the voices of the students as the praise God before each meal, or it’s the joy you find in washing dishes with the students after the meal, or it’s the sweet smell of exotic flowers, or the sound of birds in the morning, or the taste of your first Manzana Lift or a chocolate Emperador cookie, or the love you feel in church on Sunday morning. It’s just something about experiencing these things for the first time that captures your heart and burns a desire deep within that will not be satisfied until you return to God’s Mexico. And I pray that these dear friends of mine would return to God’s Mexico soon. Thank you for coming and ministering to God’s people and ministering to me as well. Your presence here this past week has had ripple effects which are still being felt and enjoyed today. Que Dios les bendiga.

Casa Hogar

2010-03-13T07:59:00.000-08:00

This is a video of the girls I work with at the Casa Hogar orphanage in Cordoba, Veracruz. I usually go every Thursday to help them with their homework and just to spend some time with them. These girls are precious to me and I wanted to give you a glimpse of what my life looks like on Thursday mornings. This video was taped last Thursday (March 11th).

Justo a tiempo

2010-03-11T14:59:00.000-08:00

“I just held him. No words. We stayed like that for a long time.”

The words, raw with pain and often overtaken by weeping, struggled but by God’s grace made their way out of Mary’s mouth and penetrated deep into our own hearts. She was not the only one crying in the meeting. I looked around the table at some of my modern day heroes, the wives of the faculty, and I couldn’t find one eye that could boast of dryness. MITC was rocked by the news of Beto, Mary’s young son. I say rocked but the faith of my Mexican brothers and sisters has never burned so brightly in such a seemingly dark and hopeless night. The mere thought that God might take another member of their precious family was almost unbearable and left all of us on our knees. Many saints in many countries interceded on behalf of this family. And give me the honor and inexpressible joy to tell you that the absolute beauty of God’s faithfulness and of His love and of His grace and of His mercy has come through for us!

The doctors here told them that the brain tumor was inoperable. This devastating news felt like a literal punch in the gut to all. Then God showed up and showed off in ways that I can’t clearly communicate to you. All I know is that I found myself coming back to Mexico after renewing my visa with a letter. A letter that said that everything was ready. A plane ticket was ready. In less than two weeks a hospital (not known for its charity) was ready. One of the best brain surgeons in the country was ready. One anesthesiologist was ready. One cardiologist was ready. Radiation therapy was ready. Everything was ready for Beto to come except he had to go through the hard process of getting his visa. I don’t know if you know anything about how hard it is for Mexican citizens to get visas to travel to the United States. Just believe me; it’s very difficult. The Embassy arranged a meeting for Mary and Beto had the end of March but as my plane arrived in Veracruz at 10:00 P.M. I was informed that by no explication other than a miracle the Embassy moved their appointment up to the following day. However, this meant that we must make it to the bus station in Cordoba (2 hours from Veracruz) before the 1:00 A.M. bus leaves for Mexico City. All I remember was waking up to Jorge’s voice, “Bruc, despiertate, dame la carta.” Jorge woke me from my trancelike dreamless sleep at 12:45 P.M. We were parked in front of the bus station and I could see Mary leaning in the window. I handed over the letter to a very relieved and grateful Mary. And I’ll never forget the peace I felt by her presence. She was not worried. She was trusting in her God and she knew that He would do what He sees fit to do. The bus left at 1:00 A.M. and we got the call around 10:30 that the visa had been approved. Beto was going to the US for a life saving surgery!

Mary and Beto left Tuesday for the US and they are in Shreveport right now. The surgery will be today. I know most of you reading this personally know Mary, Beto, and Marlene. Please continue to cover them in prayers. I am speechless when it comes to explaining the hearts, places, and procedures that God has moved to make this a reality. There are so many other details to tell but I just can’t. God is good. My heart like so many is filled with awe and deep gratitude for what God is doing. Please pray. Please pray. Please pray.

Update: The doctors ran all the same tests and it appears that the brain tumor is not a dangerous tumor but a lipoma (a harmless lump of fatty tissue) that he has probably had since he was born. No surgery or radiation is needed. He will have to take seizure medicine for 6 months and then they will run another CT to make sure that the lipoma hasn’t grown any. Praise God!

las Adventuras en Chiapas y Catemaco

2010-02-26T09:36:00.000-08:00

Ah Montezuma, save your revenge for the Spaniards next time!

2010-02-12T14:44:00.000-08:00

“¿Es necesario?” I asked not even looking over my shoulder where Doctora Rocia stood, preparing my IV. Even I wasn’t impressed with my feeble attempt to dissuade her from hooking me up to that dreadful suero. She left the room for fifteen minutes and all I could conjure up was “Is it necessary?” Perhaps that’s why I didn’t even bother to look up because I already knew the answer and sure enough the answer came in true Rocio fashion.

“Is it necessary? I came because it was necessary. Is it necessary? Look at you. You haven’t eaten in three days and to have the symptoms that you have… Argh… Esta paciente… Yes, it is necessary….. Oh, these patients….Is it necessary? huff….”

Instead of groaning and turning the other way which I was ready to do, I just smiled. There is just something about that feisty tone she uses when speaking that always makes me laugh. Then Doctora Rocio proceeded to tell the nurse, “You know this Bruc was the first patient I saw with the flu.” It was humorous to me how quick her tone turned from sarcastic and half scolding to one filled with pride as if telling her latest bragging right. She went on, “But no she didn’t get the flu from no Mexican niño. She got the flu from one of her own countrymen.” Once again I smiled but this time on the inside, remembering the whole flu episode. The week before I contracted the flu I was translating for eye surgeons. Doctora Rocio was in charge of making sure that none of the children had flu like symptoms because they were all candidates for operation. Dr. Rocio took her work very seriously to the extent of rushing out a little niño if he as much as sneezed to have him thoroughly examined. Anyways she continued, “You know Bruc is the one patient that gives me the most service. I think she should get a prize. I will have to get her a gift…” The nurse just nodded as she looked back and forth from me the #1 patient to Dr. Rocio, my personal Mexican doctor. When Rocio finished her discourse the nurse looked at me with sympathetic eyes and the foreseen words flowed, “Ok so you will feel a little sting.” Ah, the numerous times I have said that exact phrase when translating but it’s a lot different when you are the patient. I relaxed the muscles in my forearm but the fire that bombarded my veins caused me to cry out in pain. A little sting? That is the worst word choice ever. If she would just have told me that it was going to hurt I could have braced myself but I think the surprise of how bad it hurt made it much worse. At least now I know I will not use that word again when I am translating for the nurse hooking up the IV.

And so there I was…. unwillingly hooked up to an IV in Mexico…. and I stayed liked that for the next 18 hours….. this was after two and half days of upset stomach, headache, a little fever, and immense stomach cramping. I went from Saturday night to Wednesday afternoon with only a sliver of pound cake (right at the beginning of the pain), a banana, piece of toast, and five crackers. However, I was not the only one affected by this weird stomach virus. Bill, Wendy, and John all courageously fought Montezuma’s revenge with me. And I am pleased to say that there were no causalities. No we might have scars and bad memories but we have all survived the battle (which felt like an epic war by the time it was over) and we are better for it.

So what was God teaching me this past week? a lot of things …. just how much I would have to suffer for Him… that He loves me…. that He is still good even when I am hurting… and I hate to admit but it also took me being hooked up to IV to realize that I was not only physically dehydrated but also spiritually dehydrated. I hadn’t been fighting for my time in the Word and in prayer the past week and as a result my defenses were down spiritually just as they were physically. I needed the Word of Life flowing through my veins, fighting enemy bodies and replenishing my soul. And tonight I feel better. I feel rejuvenated spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Brother Bill preached the last revival of the week tonight (the only one I was able to attend) and the Coro Unido sang. God’s presence was as thick as fog in that auditorium downtown. You might say that all the singing and preaching was for the rather large group of people who came down front and made a profession of faith. And you would be right, well partly right because man, that was for me too. God is faithful and good as ever. Keep trusting Him…. Until next time Montezuma….

Behind the Mask... Part Two

2010-01-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

“Ok… now please ask her to apply pressure to spot so I can see the pus come out.” instructed the Optometrist.

“Toca la cara acá para enseñarnos como sale el pus por favor” the words without emotion somehow escaped my mouth with ease.

It seemed to me that I could have translated anything gross or hard after the morning I had with the little five year old boy. Telling a crying mother and her crying son that there was nothing we could do for his left eye which after an accident at school contained a piece of glass was almost unbearable but with God given grace I was able to relay the horrific message. His retina was entirely destroyed and the only surgery he would be having would be to completely remove his eye. So now, utterly drained from all known emotion, I was translating for a young girl with a blocked passage in her tear duct.

As her hand reached toward her face I turned my head away telling God…. I can’t do this. I can’t watch this. This is so disgusting…. Then after the doctor was satisfied he thanked her in his broken Spanish, causing me to turn my head around and repair the damage he had just done to the Spanish language. However, as I turned my head I felt an undeniable sense of shame and guilt. Immediately, I pushed these emotions back and tried to block out the voices in my head as I finished translating for this consultation. This same scene then repeated itself two or three more times that day. And each time I turned my head as the patient showed the doctor the mucus I felt terrible and convicted. It wasn’t until later when I had a heart to heart with God that I realized what exactly I was doing and the implication of my actions. Moreover, it wasn’t until I put myself in the patients’ shoes that I realized that the only disgusting thing was not the pus coming out of the blocked tear duct however it was my turning my head away each time when they were showing us something that was probably really embarrassing and vulnerable for them to do. Sorrow and Regret fought on the battlefield of my heart as I grasped the emotions that I would have felt if I was them. Honestly, I would have felt rejection. This thought and feeling hit me hard like a bat and I found myself asking for forgiveness and pleading for help to conquer this problem. God proved faithful and merciful as ever as grace showered down on me that dark cold night in Chiapas. But along with God’s grace that night came an important lesson. God pointed me to a passage regarding Jesus’ response to person with a physical health problem…. Allow me to paint a picture for you….

Jesus Christ was traveling throughout Galilee, preaching in synagogues and performing miracles when a man with leprosy approached him. In Biblical times, people who contracted leprosy were banished from society, forced to live on the outskirts. People were afraid to have any kind of contact with these suffering victims. To demonstrate the extremeness of isolation between society and the lepers, the lepers had to follow strict rules such as calling out “Unclean” if they happened to approach someone on the road. Ok so now that you have an idea of how people considered lepers I’ll return to the story. So this man, this outcast of society, approached Jesus and falls at his feet pleading for a miracle, pleading that Jesus would make Him clean. You and I have absolutely no doubt that the Son of Man has the power to heal this man. We see in the scriptures that He healed many from their physical afflictions. No medical case was too hard for Jesus to do for He healed many simply by breathing the words and the following are some examples….

He said to the paralytic, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home. He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all”...... He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means, Be opened!). At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly…... “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.”Immediately he received his sight…... He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk…

Undeniably, there is divine power in Jesus’ words and a Centurion who came to Jesus one day understood this as he said, “Lord, don’t trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof… But say the word, and my servant will be healed.” Words that heal people are something to notice and be awed by. So you can imagine the simplicity that it would take for our man with leprosy to be healed, right? All Jesus had to do was to speak a word or two for this outcast to be miraculously cured of this terrible disease. And yes Jesus did speak a few words and this man was healed but what Jesus did before breathing a single word of healing is what astounded me that night in Chiapas. The word of God says “Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man (Mark 1:41).” Need I say more? He touched him. My Jesus didn’t have to touch him but He did. He could have easily spoken the words like so many other times but Jesus Christ, the son of God, the author and perfecter of my faith, my example and my King, touched the man with leprosy. I prayed that night that God would work on my heart and teach me to love like Christ… and little did I know as I ever do what was to come….. and in this case, it would come the next day….

The following morning God with the voice of Dr. Sherman laid the following task before me.

Dr. Sherman said, “Brooke, you are my angel from Cordoba. You did such a great job with the mother and her five year son. Now I will be operating for the next hour but I need you to do some translating for me. Go down stairs and there is a young man there in the waiting room who is burned. Now we wont be able to do anything for him but maybe relieve a little of his pain. I need you to go down there and ask him some questions. Ask him what happened. Ask what hurts the most. I need background information and I will come look at him when I get done with the surgery.”

I know, sweet reader, you can already tell where this is going. I will go ahead and say that words cannot describe the shape I found this young man in but I will try. I took my time walking down the perilous flight of narrow stairs wondering what I was about to experience and going through some basic Spanish vocabulary in mind, figuring out how I was going to word certain questions. I opened the door at the bottom stairs, allowing the wind full access to my face and welcoming the sunshine with great delight. It was a beautiful day and I was pleased as I peered out to see that half the seats where family members were waiting under a tent were vacant. This was good considering this was the last day for operating. I turned to my right and made my way to the designated room for patients waiting to be seen. The chairs that snaked the small room were almost all full. Before I entered I staked out the room from the small window on the door, trying to figure out which one was my burnt victim. My instinct went with the young looking guy, seated in the corner, with a black knit hat, red jacket, blue jeans, and with a medical mask covering his face. A modern day man with leprosy one could have thought… And curious enough there was a vacant seat next to him. Slowly but assuredly, I made my way to the corner with each set of eyes that I passed following me, wondering why I was skipping them because they knew how closely I was with working with their doctor.

I took a seat and asked for his record as I searched his eyes to see if they would give away the answer. His eyes seemed to be unhurt but melancholy and this was confirmed as I glanced down at his record and noted that he was not here for an eye check up but for another medical condition. I took a mental breath, suddenly realizing that this was going to be tougher than my experiences yesterday and then with a new found strength and compassion I proceeded with simple introductions and started with the questions that I had already formulated in my mind during my trip down the stairs.

His name: Sergio
His age: Just nineteen

He was very closed off to me at first. His arms were folded, his head inclined, his mouth hidden, and his body seemed to be scrunched as he sat uncomfortably in pain in the metal chair. I gently asked what happened and his eyes meet mine for only a moment of silence and then he began to explain the horrific accident. He couldn’t remember many details but he told me that it happened five months ago while he was doing his job. He was working on electric cables and then the next thing he remembers is waking up in a hospital bed with his life forever changed. I then asked where he hurts the most and this is where the work that God had done on my heart the previous night paid off because I had never seen anything in my life as horrific and heart-wrenching including things I’ve seen in horror movies and in my worst nightmares. To answer my question he wanted to show me so he first took off the mask uncovering his mouth which was so badly burned and his lips were so badly swollen. I felt pain just by observing the condition of his face and this also led me to understand the reason for wearing the mask. He quickly put the mask back on not wasting a second of unnecessary exposure and then he told me his ear hurts badly too. He lifted up the black knit hat just enough for me to make out the place where his ear use to be. His ear looked as if it was almost completely melted in the now discolored skin on the side of his face. Then he so carefully pulled back the sleeves of his jacket to show me his arms and unbuttoned his shirt to show me his stomach. The burns covered his body like a quilt blanket, discoloring the skin like patchwork and leaving enormous blisters. I could not believe what I was seeing but I made sure my eyes never left him especially when he looked up at me because in those moments I wanted to be sending him inaudible messages of acceptance and love.

It’s hard to explain but I loved this stranger from Chiapas and I wanted to reach out to him and to touch him. I could only imagine the looks of people and maybe even friends and family that he has received. I could only imagine not only the physical pain but also the emotional pain of having your appearance completely altered for the worst. I could only imagine what it felt like to in a sense have leprosy and to be an outcast to society. Because without the grace and compassion of my God, I am fearful that my looks would have mirrored the condition his body was in. And despite every fleshly instinct to turn my head and run, I was overwhelmed with the compassion that followed these thoughts so much that I reached out and touched his leg, the only part of his body unaffected by the electrocution. And no, complete healing to his body did not come after that. I don’t pretend to be Jesus. But I know one thing that did come and that was love and acceptance. I wanted him to feel loved. I wanted him to feel accepted. And with a touch and a look of compassion you never know the ways God can reach a heart. We are to be the hands and feet of God while we are on this earth. And in that moment I knew that if not for anyone else or anything else God sent me to Mexico to touch Sergio and to tell him that there is a reason that he is still breathing and that reason is that God has a plan for his life.

Behind the Mask ... Part One

2010-01-20T19:36:00.000-08:00

“Your eyes… They are made of so many different colors… Why?” the boy behind the mask asked.

“I don’t know. It’s the way God made me” I responded.

Within fifteen minutes our conversation which started out tense with hard questions and even tougher answers took a slight curve right becoming a charla between two new friends instead of a questionnaire between a doctor’s assistant and patient. Then as on cue and without explanation, the roomful of waiting patients suddenly got up from their seats and left the room. This was done for no apparent reason other than God wanting Sergio and I to talk freely and without listening ears. So naturally I took my own cue and propped up my tired feet on the now vacant seat in front of me and began to shoot the breeze with my new friend. Spanish filled the air with questions and answers about family, jobs, hometowns, and sports including futbol americano and WWF. Sergio already had a soft place in my heart by the mere fact of sharing the same name of a beloved friend in Honduras but with each passing minute I felt closer and I felt more love for this stranger, this boy behind the mask, than I have ever felt for someone else. In those precious moments I found myself overwhelmed with wanting him to know the truth.

So much that I abruptly blurted out, “You know there is a reason you are still alive. I am so happy that you are alive. God has plans for you. There is a reason.”

His eyes turned brilliant with intrigue and hope, and that same hunger which I had seen so many times in so many faces over the years was irrefutable.

Encouraged by his eager eyes I went on, “I have to leave now to go back home but can I please share something with you before I go?”

My heart hung on what that answer would be but I didn’t have to wait long because he immediately answered sí so I proceeded with great joy sharing the good news with him. When I finished presenting the gospel he looked at me and softly spoke the following words: “You know many people from different religions came to visit me in the hospital after the accident but nobody talked about God the way you have today with me.”

Unwillingly, I had to leave my friend but I left him with a copy of the word of God and by the time everything was packed and in the truck I went back one more time to the waiting room. I found him there alone and half way through the book of John. Praise God.. Amen...

I am grateful to my God for bringing me unexpectantly to Chiapas this past weekend. Without a doubt in my mind there was a purpose behind the crazy series of events that unfolded, allowing me a place in the truck to make the eight hour trip. And I firmly believe that one of those purposes was to meet this boy behind the mask. And the truth is I am not sure if he was the one needing me more than I was the one needing him. Sweet reader, you will understand the reasons for this in the next blog.

Please pray for my friend Sergio.

Mi Vida Part 1

2009-12-25T21:48:00.000-08:00

Mi Vida Part 2

2009-12-25T20:09:00.000-08:00

Chicken Foot Soup, Anyone?

2009-12-25T19:52:00.000-08:00

What are you willing to bleed for?

2009-12-11T17:02:00.000-08:00

Have you ever found yourself face to face with someone’s blood? Maybe a mom reading this has cleaned up a skinned-up knee. Maybe an athlete reading this has helped a teammate with a bloody nose. I don’t know your life experiences but let me ask you another question. How important is our blood to us? What worth does our blood have? Considering that blood is our life source, I’d say the worth is substantially significant. Blood is what keeps us going, keeps us alive. Undoubtedly, our blood is of vital importance and the mere paper cut puts us in an automatic frenzy to stop that red surge because as children we learned that blood needs to stay in our body and that there is imminent danger in the loss there of. So where am I going with this? You shall now see….

Her screams were terrifying with each yelp reaching down and tearing at your soul. You wanted to do something, anything, but you were frozen still, completely powerless, taking in the scene. Surely those around felt the same fear and helplessness that you did but they stood as well, unmoving. It was clear that everyone was impacted by her outburst. Mauro rushed by me to help the three guys who were already trying to restrain Chayo. She, who had just woken up from surgery aggressive and petrified, was clearly a danger not only to herself but others. Now there were four guys holding her down as Laura, the anesthesiologist was summoned to inject Chayo with something to help calm her down. Within minutes the screaming diminished to crying and then to soft whimpering and finally to silence as Chayo, the girl one year younger than me with Down syndrome, fell asleep.

An hour later during my break I was chatting with some students outside when I heard Chayo’s ever recognizable cry coming from the roomful of sleeping children. Indistinctively, I rose from where I was and tracked her fraught whimpering to her bedside in the make-shift recovery room. As soon as I opened the door, all eyes in the dark room turned to me. I was the only American in the room but more notably the only one in scrubs. And then as the moment passed all the chocolate colored concerned eyes in the gloomy room passed from me to the back of the room where Chayo and her mother were seated. Slowly but with a tinge of fear, wondering if in the next moment I would be running to get Marcos, I walked to the back of the room and sat down on the cot directly in front of her. Chayo’s eyelids were scrunched together only allowing her eyeballs to peek out every now and then. The two neatly cut curves under her eyes reminded me of two opposing red shaped half moons on either side of her nose. There were hints and trails of dried blood from the half moon shaped scars to the edge of her lips and even a little on her chin. Her left hand was coated in dry blood from the episode of her waking up fist in hand and pulling out her IV. Although the room was dimly lit I could see that her mother’s face was beyond distressed at the current condition of her beloved daughter; however, the immediate comfort and relief brought on by my mere presence was undeniable as a couple of lines in her furrowed brow dissipated. I sat down not knowing what to say much less what to do for my medical career had just started that morning. Unaware of my presence, Chayo started rocking back and forth, heel to toe, weeping and calling out for her daddy and Pepe. Her mother gripped her tightly begging her to calm down with bribes and reassuring promises that she was not alone and that she was ok. This was to no avail until the unbroken chain of Spanish rolling off her tongue informed Chayo that her “doctora” was there in front of her wanting to clean off her face. My breath caught in my throat at these words. I had been mistakenly called doctor all weekend by patients and even jokingly by the students but this was much different. Now I was expected to help clean off the blood on her face. Let me tell you something about me if you haven’t read the previous blog, I don’t do blood. I don’t do pain. I run from pain. I have run from the physical pain of others all my life. But in this moment, a girl, one year younger than me, was looking to me and needing me to heal her. And I knew exactly what to do. I was in this very recovery room five hours earlier when a nurse explained to me the right way to clean a wound for no apparent reason. I just thought he liked to talk a lot so I listened and thank God I paid attention to what he said because I had no reason to at the time. I immediately located gauze and wet it in water and started to blot off the blood ever so tenderly. Chayo was in perfect peace as I steadied her head with my left hand and cleaned her face with my right. And then after her face was clear of red with exception to those half shaped moons under her eyes, I took her left hand and started to wipe off the remaining blood. After I finished cleaning off the blood she started crying again only to be consoled that her doctor was there to clean her face so I started the cleaning process again and this played out until her father and brother arrived. I would guess it was thirty minutes later when they showed up and I finally had faces to match the two names she had been calling out to all along. The family left within ten minutes, leaving me with a heavy heart and one step closer to knowing and understanding my beautiful Christ.

You see my Christ died for me. He shed his blood for my sins. Oh, how many times I hear and say those very words! But how much of impact do those very words have on my life? Those words became so real to me last night as I was face to face with human blood, our life source. I couldn’t help but think of my Savior’s blood as I gently cleaned off the blood on Chayo’s face and I couldn’t help but think of my Heavenly Father as I watched the mother’s body flinch as if she was the one in more pain. The fact that the blood of my Savior was spilled for me astounded me in this moment. And how much more so did our God hurt as he willingly gave up his Son to die on a cruel cross at our hands? These thoughts proved powerful and to the point of overwhelming me and striking me in awe of God. The fact that Jesus died on a cross and He didn’t have his Dad there to hold him or a doctor there to wipe away His blood. No, He was beaten and humiliated and hung on a cross. And yes, Mary was there along with others at the crucifixion but He was up there on that cross. They couldn’t reach out and hold His hand. My Savior died on a cross calling out to His Dad. How beautiful but also how horrific did the blood flow! How many times do we say Bible verses and sing songs about the blood of Jesus compared to the number times we take time to think about the words we are saying and singing and then shudder at the very thought of the blood of Christ being poured out for our souls? Jesus bled for me. Man, that’s powerful. It’s powerful to think about those words. It’s powerful to be reminded of those words. It’s powerful to live out those words. I will never comprehend the extent of pain or suffering Jesus went through on that unimaginable day but after my experience with Chayo I am more conscious of the value of our blood. For example, Chayo was willing to bleed to have better eye sight. Jesus was willing to bleed to have me. Then finally I asked myself, what am I willing to bleed for? These are the thoughts and question I have pondered ever since….

But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

Playing Doctor with the Optometrists

2009-12-11T16:41:00.000-08:00

So I don’t do pain. I don’t do blood. Since I was in middle school my grandmother has always told me, “Brooke, you should be a nurse when you grow up, just like your mother, aunt, and other grandmother.” And I inwardly cringe every time that suggestion leaves her lips because I couldn’t imagine dealing with people’s physical pain on a daily basis. I didn’t always use to be like this. I feel like this all started when I had to deal with physical pain on a daily basis. It was when pain became a struggle and fight in my life that I became super high sensitive to the physical pain of others. However, being at MITC, especially during the summer, I have had to learn how to overcome or at least deal with my anxiety over this issue because I have had to translate for over hundreds of medical consultations. For instance, one week I was working with a curly haired doctor from Shreveport and at the end of the week she told me that when I was in front of the patient and she was examining the patient from behind she didn’t even have to ask if the patient was feeling pain in the area that she was touching because all she had to do was look at the expression on my face. With that being said, it’s been a difficult process and you knowing this background info will help you understand my story about a girl with Down syndrome named Chayo.

This past weekend at the compound a team of eye surgeons came from Louisiana and Tennessee to operate on over a hundred patients. The students worked hard to turn MITC into a make-shift hospital. My assignment was to translate and work with the children specialists, Dr. Black and Dr. Debbie. I cannot describe in words how special and unique this opportunity was for me because these surgeons that I had the blessing to work with are some of the best in the country. I had the opportunity to scrub in two surgeries and was taught the different kinds of instruments used and the manner in which to hand them to the doctor. I watched and gave instruments to world renown, Dr. Brad Black, who performed a surgery in forty minutes that someone later informed me that this would have taken medical students at UT eight hours to do.

The first picture is from one of the surgeries that I had the honor of scrubbing in for. Here Dr. Black is fixing a little girl’s crossed eyes. This was a special case for me because this girl is one of the ones from the Orphanage here in Cordoba that I work with every Thursday. I promised her that I would be there with her the whole time. The procedure for this type of surgery includes loosening the muscles from the eye, straightening the eyes up, and then reattaching the muscles to the eyes so that when the child wakes up, her or his eyes are lined up. This particular surgery is extremely important because if the child is not operated on before puberty he or she will actually go blind in one eye. The second picture is of the two girls from the orphanage that were operated on and this picture was taken two weeks after their surgeries. I really enjoyed my time with the team of eye surgeons and hope to work with them again.

Mark Stern, a very talented professional photographer, took pictures all weekend of the work. If you would like to see some more of his pictures you can go to this link.... BUT be warned.... there are numerous pictures of surgeries so if you have a weak stomach when it comes to blood, i would pass if i were you..... http://marksternphoto.zenfolio.com/cordoba

Go ahead, You told me so....

2009-11-28T14:16:00.000-08:00

Today is Thanksgiving. I was told this on the phone by my mom a couple hours earlier. Her calls have become less frequent and her voice a little less frantic and anxious. I don’t blame her at all. Today is my fourth day being shut off from the world and to be honest something I have come to realize is that it is the world that poses the stronger threat to me than my illness posing a danger to it. Sweet Hermana Keta brought me a plate of food, being careful not to cross the threshold she called out my name softly. I was on the verge of my endless trancelike sleep when suddenly the twisted pronunciation of my name Brewk broke into my blurred thoughts and interrupted my pending dreams. I shifted over on my side and my eyes traced the Spanish to the door and my hazy vision fixated on the plate covered by a napkin. In the next moment I was up on my feet headed ever cautiously to the door with my hands already out in great expectation of the gift I was about to receive. But something ever more precious than the gift of food that I just been handed was the gift of her counsel that she left me mentally chewing on as she walked away. She told me that sometimes God stops us and puts us into situations where we have no other choice but to be still and in that stillness He pulls us closer to Himself. She lovingly encouraged me and told me that they were praying for me in my forced stillness and quietness.

So what happened to me? Let’s start on Sunday. Everything seemed like a normal Sunday. I went to my beloved church, la Cumbre, and the service lasted almost two hours. Nothing peculiar there… Then we ate tacos and snacks and fellowshipped outside for the next 40 minutes… Once again, normal Sunday…. Then we made our way back to the school, looking forward to the 2:30 lunch because one of the professor’s wives makes lunch every Sunday so you knew you were going to get something good. And they served Mole (special chocolate sauce that you pour over your meat) which at one time I detested but now at the mere mention of this Mexican dish my mouth waters. So the perfect Mayberry Sunday continued as the students and I sat down, sang a song praise, prayed over meal, and dug in our food. However clouds formed and thunder rolled on the perfect Mayberry Sunday as we were washing the dishes from our meal. Pain started abruptly in the temples of my head leaving me dizzy and complaining of a major headache. Luis bought me a coke with the hopes that all I needed was a shot of that good ole caffeine. And with a cold coke in hand, I had to excuse myself to go lie down. I climbed up on the top bunk and went to sleep despite the light of the sun shining through my window and I awoke to pure darkness for I had slept until the beginning of night. My head still hurt so I crossed out the need for caffeine and tried some Advil and went to scoundrel up some food. Ten minutes later, I found myself in my pastor’s house, seated at their table, eating Oreos, and watching their fourteen year old son make me a sandwich. And I don’t have to go into details in how that conspired but it was a wonderful sandwich and I have you know (especially those readers who took Latin American culture with me in college) that not all Mexican males are macho and this is a perfect example. So anyways with a belly full, I made a few calls home and then went back to my room and little did I know that approaching was a night which would be in the top five worst of my life. My headache had gotten steady worse so I was looking forward to sleeping it off and I first went to sleep pretty easily that night. But I have no idea what time it was but I woke up sweating and trembling at the same time. My body was so hot, I felt like a fire was consuming me. I threw off my blankets in a fury and clung to my pillow praying for relief. I felt so bad and I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. My head was burning. Oh, was my head ever burning! Only God knows how long I was awake that night but it seemed like the dawn would never come and sleep could not find me.

However, when dawn did come sleep found me but only for a little while. I woke up at nine with that residing pain that inhabited itself so comfortably in my head now but a new sharp ache in my chest accompanied it leaving me bewildered and wounded. I got up and did some things that morning only to come back to my room defeated from this enemy within body. Jackie found me curled up, hands cradling my head, in my bed at 12:00 and convinced me that it was serious and it was past time to go talk to Dan about what I was feeling. We walked to his office together and I went in and told him everything that was going on and much to my dismay he said that they were going to take me to the doctor this instant. And later I would thank God like I have done on many other occasions for Dan’s discernment especially regarding this decision. So Hermana Mary took me to see the spicy Doctora Rocio. Now I love Doctora Rocio. She always helps when the American teams are here; we had worked side by side just this past weekend with the eye doctors. She is witty, intelligent, and simply put a beautiful person. We went to her office and sat patiently in the waiting room. Well Hermana Mary waited patiently; I waited in ever increasing pain. I tried to distract myself by watching the TV screen, which was smaller than a cereal box, but it was just the news covering the flu epidemic. I wondered if nothing else had happened overnight in the country of Mexico as time ticked and they still went on about this crazy influenza. It’s humorous to me now that the thought never occurred to me at this point that I could be the very next statistical number to the outbreak of the flu in Veracruz. Not once did this cross my mind. Not once… Yes, I know the flu got passed around sorority row during Rush and many LSU students came down with it but nobody here has gotten it. The only people I knew who had were in the States. So it never crossed my mind but those were the first words that came out of Dr. Rocio’s mouth after she listened to my symptoms. “¡Brewk, tienes la influenza!” Then she had to convince me that she was not kidding. We took a chest x-ray and it was incredible how much mucus had already infiltrated my lungs in less than 24 hours. Dr. Rocio then sat me down and explained the seriousness of my problem. She told me that this problem in my lungs is the exact complication from the flu that people die from and she also explained to me that with the progression of mucus in my lungs and without having treatment after seventy-two hours only God knows if I would have still been breathing. From that moment we treated my illness vigorously with a shot, antibiotics, tamiflu, and some pain meds to help with my fever. And I have been secluded to my room ever since. But it is not so bad. I have had plenty of time to think, pray, watch movies, work on a scrapbook, and listen to my music and podcasts. And now I feel better and refreshed. God is taking care of me here in Mexico. God is ever faithful and I thank Him for stopping me and keeping me to Himself for awhile.

La niña de tus ojos- The Conference

2009-11-16T18:28:00.000-08:00

“Often when we thrill to the realization of a call from God, we picture going from our faces to our feet as He increasingly elevates our position. The reverse, however, is often truer in the earthly realm.” Beth Moore. During the process of preparing for this conference this quote rang true in every way as I was brought to my knees seeking God’s help not only with what I was going to say but also how I was going to say it. If you have met me then it’s a good chance that you know that I am not the most confident in my Spanish. It literally has been a continuous fight to learn this language and the majority of days I still feel pinned to the mat, overpowered by a stronger adversary with a flexible rolling tongue. Once again Beth Moore also states in her Esther study, “God isn’t interested in our stellar performance but in our hearts. He loves our willingness and obedience despite our insecurities.” Well I just finished my 8 week Beth Moore Study and those were two of my favorite quotes from the book because they hit home for me… And I don’t think it was a coincidence that I finished my study on the life of Esther right before the conference. Let’s just say Esther had to do something really scary to save lives. And although I am not a Jew and I don’t expect genocide here in Mexico, I honestly see what I had to do as something scary and also as something to save lives. Around eighty girls came from all over the state of Veracruz and also some from out of state to this young women’s conference. When the time came for me to give the first section, peace washed over me and I was reminded of Jeremiah when he said he had to speak the truth because his bones felt as if they were on fire. So I got up there. I got up there in front of eighty girls. All eyes were on me as I set up my laptop with the PowerPoint. And then I took a deep breath and walked out from behind the stand and started…..

I started with a story that any girl could relate to, a story of a broken heart, more specifically a story of my broken heart. Let me tell you the way I saw it; I had many boundaries between me and these girls and I had to break them down in order to get through to them. First off, my mere appearance could be a boundary although I prayed that my nationality would bring intrigue instead being an obstacle. I was aware that preconceived notions would inevitably come along with seeing my white skin and blue eyes. And with my introduction I was determined to break down this possible barrier. Peel back the skin, be vulnerable, and let them see my heart was my objective. Because like I said at the end of my introduction, it doesn’t matter what country you are from all females have the same basic desires and needs. After breaking down this obstacle, I was determined to put myself on their level and I tried this by salting my speech with Mexican slang words and also by making a joke about feeling more Jarocha (not just Mexican but a Mexican girl from Veracruz) than American sometimes. I think this proved effective because I had some students later mention to me that they loved the fact that I talked their talk, not just Spanish but their Spanish. Anyway, these are just things I prepared for but it was God who worked and did He ever work! I could feel the girls following my words as I watched their chocolate colored eyes move as I moved across the stage. I believe their eyes followed my movements in the same way as their hearts followed my words. It is an incredible feeling to be still before God and just let Him work through you. In fact, it is addicting. At the end of the second section, I didn’t want to step down because I was afraid that I would never feel the power and presence of God so close to me again. I didn’t want the fire that had been so mysterious lit and the sensation of my burning heart to go out or grow cold. But my job had been done. The Word of God had been preached. My points? You are a girl created by God and for God. You are a girl with real needs and longings that only Jesus can fulfill. And you are a girl completely lost without Jesus Christ. I wanted it to be simple and clear. Thank you for your prayers. Your prayers were answered. God did a mighty work. Many came up to me, some on the verge of tears, telling me that God spoke straight to their hearts and touched their lives. At the end Anita asked the girls who had never been to a church or a church event before to raise their hands. Around fifteen girls raised their hands. That is awesome! Some students even came up to me, telling me that they didn’t expect to learn anything but to their surprise God opened their eyes to some unforeseen things in their hearts and lives. Thank you for your prayers. I honestly can’t thank you enough for your prayers for my ministry. The power of your interceding to God on my behalf is what sustained me and empowered me during the conference. I am believing God that lives were touched and forever impacted by my obedience, your prayers, and His Word.

Doy gracias a Dios por tu vida y tu amistad

2009-10-31T10:57:00.000-07:00

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.

Red Rain Jacket

2009-10-21T08:18:00.000-07:00

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.

Rambunctious kid … Rebellious me…

2009-10-07T07:05:00.000-07:00

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

I need your prayers

2009-09-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

“You will be the next Beth Moore but in Mexico.” I dismissed the thought as soon as it left Sarita’s mouth. However, I did appreciate her affirmation for she was only trying to encourage me after I made the terrifying decision to be the speaker at the young women’s conference this November. Let’s just say I had been trembling since Anita took me by surprise a few hours earlier in the kitchen. We were just cooking some beans for lunch when suddenly what seemed like a normal nonchalant conversation took an unexpected turn and I had to ask her to repeat herself to make sure I understood her Spanish right…. My thoughts became sporadic (surely she was just inviting me to attend the conference and not inviting me to actually be la Conferencista). Immediately, I could feel the heat rising from the beans that were on the verge of boiling as my mind switched to panic mode, piecing together the string of Spanish words that rapidly rolled off her tongue. And there it was again .... that word “conferencista” . It was as unmistakable as the green hot sauce and it stung all the same. She looked up at me as she finished her request, eagerly awaiting my response. My first stuttering words echoed the thoughts that rushed in my mind as I said, “Anita I can’t possibly be the speaker.” Did she really think about this question before she asked me? She asked the girl who still struggles on a daily basis to communicate to stand up in front of a group and share God's Word… This place is crawling with seminary students perfectly capable of doing an outstanding job not to mention their native tongue is in fact Spanish. Then right on cue, images flashed in my mind, one after another, turning my stomach as the devil pressed rewind on that infamous tape of my past sins. It was as if the devil had the perfect game plan. First, he started with reminding of my weakness and uncovering my deep insecurity concerning my Spanish and then topping it off with making me feel completely incompetent by jogging my memory of every past failure and rebellion. I felt sick to my stomach with these horrendous past reminders coupled with the sudden pressure. I stared down at the pot of black beans in front of me, wishing to dive in head-first and hide from everything. Instead, I chose to escape through the back door of the kitchen, welcoming the gush of fresh air behind the screen door... It never felt so good to breathe. Then the tape of my shortcomings was paused by the interuption of the ever recognizable Garth Brooks’ song “Shameless”. Hmm… of course I thought… It was a sweet reminder of my self-proclaimed theme song. Let's just say that six years ago, this song played on the radio and the words took on a different twist for me. I listened to the song as if Garth Brooks’ voice was my own and I was singing to God. Ever since this moment, this song has been something very special between God and me. You should listen to the song this way; it is very powerful and a picture of the desired intimacy we should want to have with God. I love it. And God knew it was just what I needed. Bottom line, I am in love with God and I am willing to do almost anything for Him even if it means making a fool of myself. And the thing is that I know God will not make a fool of me, no matter how paralyzing the feeling is of this speaking engagement......

..... This conversation with Anita took place two weeks ago. Today at lunch she gave the students (the ones leaving for the weekend to go to their assigned churches) the invitations for the conference. It was a very surreal and humbling feeling to look down at this invitation and see my name listed as the conference speaker and to think these pink papers were about to be spread in the surrounding cities and towns of Cordoba. Please pray for me as I am preparing myself for one of the biggest steps of faith I have ever taken. I honestly don’t have a clue as to what I am doing. Please pray that God would show me what to talk about and use me as His mouthpiece so that hearts would be healed, sins uncovered, and souls saved on November 7. Thank you my sweet reader. John 15:5

Click on this link to listen to "Shameless" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdDD8hSiKZs

"Shameless" Garth Brooks

Well I'm shameless when it comes to loving you
I'll do anything you want me to I'll do anything at all.
And I'm standing here for all the world to see
Oh baby, that's what's left of me
Don't have very far to fall

You know now I'm not a man who's ever been
Insecure about the world I've been living in.
I don't break easy,

I have my pride
But if you need to be satisfied I'm shameless, oh honey,
I don't have a prayer
Every time I see you standin' there I go down upon my knees.
And I'm changing, swore I'd never compromise
Oh, but you convinced me otherwiseI'll do anything you please.

You see in all my life I've never found
What I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down
I could walk away from anyone
I ever knew But I can't walk away from you.
I have never let anything have this much control over me

I work too hard to call my life my own
And I've made myself a world and it's worked so perfectly
But it's your world now,
I can't refuse I've never had so much to lose
Oh, I'm shameless.

You know it should be easy for a man who's strong
To say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong
I've never lost anything I've ever missed
But I've never been in love like this.
God It's out of my hands.

I'm shameless,
I don't have the power now
I don't want it anyhow

So I got to let it go.
Oh, I'm shameless, shameless as a man can be
You can make a total fool of me
I just wanted to you to know.

Oh, I'm shameless,
I just wanted you to know
Oh, I'm shameless,
Oh, I'm down on my knees shameless

And Kelsey sang

2009-09-12T15:17:00.000-07:00

It was hot… I am talking about the kind of hot that motivates you to share the gospel from the sheer horror of knowing that Hell is real and worse than the current environment you find yourself in. And I forgot my deodorant… The wet stickiness under my armpits reminded me of those days in middle school when I first started wearing deodorant. I’m sure you remember your first wearing deodorant days and the unmistakable regret that welled inside you on those days you realized you forgot to apply that sweat protector. I painfully reminisced of how I would fake sick just to go home because of my impending smell. Now being a veteran deodorant wearer, I couldn’t remember the last time I forgot my deodorant and it seemed paradoxically fitting that here I was in a village in a mountain in Mexico on the seemingly hottest day without my Mitchumen antiperspirant. Not only was I reeking of body odor, but also my body was tired and achy from the work that I had been doing in the kitchen the previous week. My mind was tired from teaching 10 classes and translating; I was at the point of speaking English but with Spanish grammar. Let’s just say that “She is a girl pretty” sounds strange. My feet were swollen and reminding me of that ever familiar dulling pain. I was sitting on a wooden pew in the middle of seven Mexican children who chattered away in their Indian dialect when I glanced up at the ceiling and admitted “Father, I am tired. I don’t think I have anything left to give.” I was at the end of myself. But something happened. Something made me come alive and conquer my physical exhaustion and mental tiredness. All I can say is that Kelsey sang. Yes, Kelsey sang. Man, did she ever sing. I have never met anyone quite like her who was so musically talented and so consecrated to God at the same time. And that is all it took. She played her guitar and sang. Suddenly the heat within the church transitioned from something unbearably uncomfortable to the warmth and protection of a winter coat in a storm. The sweat on my face turned into tears making their way down the curves of my cheeks. The disarray of words and grammatical rules of two languages that were mixed in an alphabet soup in my mind formed words in comprehensible ways. Peace and strength resonated within my body to the notes that eloquently and unashamedly flowed from Kelsey’s mouth. And I joined her as we sang praises to our King in this little church in some village in a mountain in Mexico.

And then the little girl, who had been sitting in my lap since we started the VBS, looked up at me with those beautiful mesmerizing brown eyes and every inconvenience, sore muscle, and discouraged thought disappeared as she tugged and pulled on the loose strands that had fallen on my face. I inclined my head, giving her little fingers the advantage to my rebellious strands of hair. In this moment in some village in a mountain in Mexico, God spoke straight to my heart and evoked within me His love for humanity. The people that we coin as “the lost” became more than terminology or some abstract concept that we Christians throw around at Bible studies or mission conferences and going to the nations became more than a command. It became a little five year girl. Lost now had a name; it was Arelia. Lost had a smell and it was a mixture of dirt, sweat, and tortillas. Lost had a soft curious touch. The nations had a heartbeat and I could feel it rhythmically pulsate against my chest. Lost liked blueberry lollypops and in fact her tongue and lips were stained blue. So many times we think of Jesus’ command to share our faith as some kind of burden. Let me disagree with you completely. To forsake the so called American Dream, to give up your comfortable lifestyle of instant macaroni and cheese, to leave your family and everything you have ever known is hard and challenging but something happened in my heart as I gazed through those little fingers that were playing with my hair to those precious brown eyes…. In those eyes I found the purpose of my life… I was born to tell Lost that Jesus loves her… And whispering these three small words “Jésus te ama” in Arelia’s ear made everything I left behind in the land of hamburgers and movie stars no sacrifice at all. To share your faith is no burden at all but a privilege, great joy, and something I take very seriously. I know everyone reading this blog has a little Arelia in your life. You don’t have to go to a foreign country to find her. She might look different, talk different, act different, than my Lost but I bet if you look close enough you can find that same hunger and curiosity in your Arelia’s eyes that I saw. What is stopping you from whispering those same three little words in her ear? What is blocking you from being synced with the compassion God has for humankind? ... And Kelsey sang. It wasn’t her amazing voice, skillful hands, or the words of the song that awakened my spirit but it was the power behind the song; moreover, it was the God of the song. I know life is hard and your environment might not be conducive but I pray that your spirit would hear Kelsey’s song and first that you would rejoice in Our Maker and then that you would look at the little girl on your lap with Jesus’ eyes. Do you hear the music? Have you looked around? Believe me, lost is not some religious term. Lost has a name, a smell, a heartbeat….

El Viaje de la Facultad

2009-08-31T11:20:00.000-07:00

This past Friday we loaded the buses and headed to Casitas, Veracruz for a weekend staff and family retreat. I was beyond excited about going to the beach, because I had missed the annual family vacation to Galveston this past summer. I was stoked when Dan told me that I was going with them and also very curious to see what it would be like to go on vacation with these great men and women of the faith. During the ride, most slept while I listened to a podcast of Dr. David Platt from the Brook Hills Church in Alabama (I definitely recommend listening to him if you are into podcasts). We arrived at our hotel which was right on beach and headed straight to the white sand. Man, I loved the beach… The water was so beautiful and blue… And I loved watching the waves… And I loved standing on the seashore, letting the water come up and cover my toes only to digress, as if the water had fingers that were teasing me to come in…. Dan made it clear that our agenda was in fact no agenda at all…. We were to relax and have fun and this we did with great joy…. We ate like kings and queens at each meal with a feast of Mexican finest cuisine including deserts with each meal… The food was utterly delicious, the fellowship couldn’t have been better, the sand was hot to the feet, the water was cool to the skin, the sun was beaming down making the ocean look like “a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue plain”*, the palm trees blew in the wind, and the continuous roar of the waves entranced one to a deep peaceful sleep. As I hope that you can conjure up from my imagery, the weekend was nothing less than wonderful and refreshing. The verse that Joaquin used in a devotional Saturday morning was the following found in Psalms 34:8, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him.” And yes this past weekend we tasted, some reluctantly, the saline of the sea and although salty to the taste, it was good to the soul. And yes this past weekend, we saw the majesty of the Lord, as we arose, once again some reluctantly (due to the time), to see the incomparable beauty of a sunrise over a vast ocean with an endless horizon. Taste and see that the Lord is good today. You might not be surrounded by a breathtaking landscape but God is just as magnificent and His taste just as addictingly sweet as it was there as it is where you are. Enjoy God today.

News about the school: All the 1st, 2nd and 3rd year students are arriving today!!!!! Classes begin tomorrow! All the 4th year students will arrive Saturday to find out their placements for the year. We already have six new 1st year students. Please keep all of them in your prayers. Thank you. To God be the Glory.

* Incubus “Wish you were here”

Vale la Pena ... if you read any of my blogs, read this one

2009-08-27T15:31:00.001-07:00

The Dash in the Middle

Her laughter broke the short-lived silence and peaked not only my own curiosity but also the curiosity of my other roommate Niche and I wondered how a little girl of Karen’s stature could produce such a hearty boisterous laugh. She definitely captured our attention and we waited with much anticipation for her to reveal the reason behind her sudden outburst... (background info: they had just seen pictures of my sorority house and of my trip to Europe and Cuba when she started chuckling uncontrollably)... She smiled, showing off two rows of sparkling straight white teeth, and then proceeded, verbalizing her hidden thoughts “Well, she said, I was just thinking… Brooke, you were just telling us all about your adventures. You have been all over the world and it’s funny because ahora tu estás aquí con nosotras en México durmiendo con las cucarachas”…. Are you ready for the translation, my sweet monolingual reader?? …. She said, “it’s funny because now you are here with us in Mexico, sleeping with the cockroaches.” At this, I’m sure we awoke Cordoba with the laugher that spilled out of our dormitory into the streets. Concerning the cucarachas, the past two nights we have slept with the lights on because of our fear of these little creatures… (and I must stop right here to tell you that I just had to kill one climbing up the wall next to my bed even as I am writing this… haha) … We laughed at the absurdity of me being here. I had been all over the world and I had just lived 2 years in a mansion by a lake (the Chi Omega house) and now I am sleeping in a dusty cockroach infested dorm room with no air conditioning. Why the heck would anyone in their right mind make the adjustment that I made? The memories are fresh on my mind of waking up to the smell of bacon and biscuits or returning from class to a squeaky clean room. Mrs. Dorothy, our cook, prepared our every meal including Louisiana’s classics and my favorites: jambalaya, gumbo, and red beans and rice while sweet Mrs. Tic from Vietnam vacuumed our rooms, took out the trash, and cleaned the bathrooms. Ok so back to the question, why the heck am I in Mexico? Was it hard to trade in the colossal Doric white-washed columns for bunk beds? Or Louisiana cuisine for empanadas and gorditas? Or the extravagant American lifestyle for a less extravagant missionary lifestyle? As they ask in Spanish, ¿Vale la pena? (Is it worth the price?) Believe me, sweet friend, I have answers to all these questions and now I hope to have your attention.

I think the best way to answer these questions would be to explain why the title of my blog is “The Dash in the Middle.” What in the world could I possibly be referring to? Any guesses? How I would love to engage in conversation with you and to hear your reactions and thoughts. I must confess I often wonder who you are, reading these words of mine. If you have a question about what I am about to say I would love to hear from you, one of my favorites things is to talk about faith. Ok let's begin- the dash in the middle refers to the little dash mark in between the year you are born and the year you die on your tombstone. Ah, you see it now? Yes, let’s talk about death for a minute in order to talk about true and satisfying life, the kind of life that vale la pena (it’s worth the price) of getting out of the bed in the morning. Do you know what I am talking about? Are you experiencing this kind of life? If you are not, let me let you in on a little secret, which in fact is no secret whatsoever for many and many years millions of people have wholeheartedly to the point of death accepted this secret (which once again is no secret)... Ok, here we go… if you have ever wondered why I am the way that I am …. This will explain it…

First of all…. Let me tell you that there is a God in this jacked up world and He knows your name. In fact, He loves you more than you know but there is something that separates you from Him, which is yourself…. You and I are imperfect human beings. Let’s just say that your mom didn’t have to teach you do something mischievous or bad when you were little. Am I right? We were born knowing how to get ourselves in trouble and desiring whatever this trouble promised. For example, although my mom told me no cookies before dinner, I put my hand in that jar, desiring the taste of those chunky chocolate chips more than wanting to obey her command. Or it took your dad saying “don’t touch the stove” to make you put your little grubby hand on that hot surface. You know what I am talking about. We were all born with this rebellious nature, it is our instinct because it was the path chosen for us by our forefathers, Adam and Eve but as some of you know the Bible doesn’t end with the story of them eating the forbidden fruit. Genesis is only the first book in the Bible. There are a lot more books but I will give you the spark notes for right now… So our nature = sin (any action that goes against God) and God is perfect without sin so therefore imagine a chasm separating you from God. Something had to be done because as I said, God loves you more than you could imagine so He provided a way for us to get to Him through sending His Son Jesus Christ to this earth to die on a cross and to conquer to death. This is the reason Jesus Christ came to the earth, He came to take on your punishment for sin thus offering you a second chance… and this second chance includes a real personal relationship and eternal life with God if you so choose. So what exactly am I trying to tell you in other words? …

This: The Creator of the Universe wants a relationship with you. You were created to know Him and be loved by Him. I can help you understand this way: We were created with a God-shaped hole in our heart and we live life trying to fill it with so many other things. For example, I have seen so many people try to fill it with religion, alcohol, sex, food, other’s approval, and many other things but all these things never completely satisfy but leave the person wanting/ needing more. Jesus will completely satisfy your God-given needs and cravings. He will give you purpose and a reason to get out of bed in the morning. This relationship with Christ, if you chose to accept Him, starts with you giving your life over to Him. Repent of your sins and acknowledge that you need a Savior and that you want this life that Jesus offers. Salvation is an internal transformation. It’s you giving up your life to follow Christ. So you might ask, Brooke, how do I do this... You must not just intellectually believe this but actually receive Christ by personal invitation. Receiving Christ involves you repenting of your sins and turning to God and trusting Christ to come into your life and forgive you of your sins.

Sweet friends, I made this decision… this decision to accept Christ into my life…. this decision to become a Christian… this decision to follow Jesus… this decision to give my life over to Him….. awhile back when I was preteen. I remember someone explaining these same truths to me and all of sudden my eyes were full of tears because I wanted to be reconciled with God, I wanted to taste His sweet forgiveness, and I wanted the life that He offers. I didn’t understand everything but I knew enough to make that decision, and I wholehearted prayed to God, giving Him the control of my life. And I am here to tell you that this is the most important and best decision you could ever make. It’s not about religion but about a true meaningful relationship with God and it starts with you giving Him your All because He gave His all for you. And I don’t want to fool you into thinking that your life will be a piece of cake once you become a Christian because it’s not BUT you have someone who will never leave your side and you don’t fear death because you will forevermore be in the presence of God. God has changed my life and He can do the same for you, in fact, He wants to do the same for you. Give Him your heart, because then it couldn’t be in safer hands.

Therefore; my life’s message and plea to you is the following:

The majority of us will have less than a hundred years of life on this earth. Make your short dash in the middle count. After you experience the forgiveness of Christ and begin to get to know Him, I think you would be more than willing to do anything for Him…. Sleeping with cockroaches in order to tell others of the way He has transformed your life becomes nothing… to tell others what I have told you: that there is real abundant life in Jesus Christ makes everything you go through….. completely… vale la pena ….

… for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…. Romans 3:23

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:23

But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2:8

Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. John 1:12-13

Spring Cleaning and Mexican BBQ

2009-08-24T14:42:00.000-07:00

Everyone is doing well here at the Ghost Town. There still isn’t much to do with all the students and still some faculty on vacation. This past week, gracias a Dios, there were 2 events that interrupted by boredom here at the school. Dan decided to start spring cleaning early so Mary, Armando, Marcos, and I helped him clean out his office (Chuy came very conveniently at the end of the process hahaha… no she was busy making us some delicious food in the kitchen and plus she told me that the disarray of dusty books and other nostalgic things that covered the living room stressed her out tremendously to the point of scaring her). The amount of books and things that came out of his office was astonishing and the fact that almost every book was a gift given to him was also an impressive fact to swallow. My job was to dust the books which for me took longer than a normal person given my insatiable thirst for a good book. I carefully investigated each hardback that crossed my hands, putting some aside to feed my own appetite and making a mental list of others to come back for later. I came across some very interesting things including Dan’s dad’s diploma from LSU and as you can see in the above pictures, I found an old picture of our beloved Pastor Larry Williams when he was younger. In this picture, he is standing next to Dan’s dad. Also, you can see Marcos taking a siesta as we were busy cleaning away... definitely caught on camera… haha

The other pictures that you see are not a burial of someone but a barbeque… Mexican style. Debe’s family invited the whole MITC faculty and their families to come enjoy Puebla’s finest foods…. Barbacoa (lamb meat) and mole poblano… I had already had the blessing of enjoying these yummy foods on my visit to Debe’s house two weeks ago and more so I had the privilege of meeting and getting to know her family. At ten in the morning on Friday, all the professors and family members met in the breezeway to find out their riding arrangements. I rode in Dan’s suburban with hermana Chely, hermano Joaquin, hermano Juanito, his wife, and Marcos. The ride was so much fun with Joaquin’s endless stream of jokes, Marcos’ laughter, and Dan’s commentary. After a little more than two hours, we arrived at our destination, Rancho Chico, Puebla. As soon as I stepped out of that black SUV, I was greeted with a homecoming of an arrival including big smiles, hugs, and kisses on the check. Everyone laughed as they ran their fingers through the purple strands in my hair and we reminisced about that crazy night that Nanci, Milka, and I colored our hair for no other reason than being able to and crazy enough to do it. It was so good to see everyone again and to have my Cordoba family with me made it even better. I felt a sense of pride as I helped Debe show everyone around her house and town. When the tour was done, Dan gave a little devotion and then we headed to BBQ pit, which was no pit but actually huge mounds of dirt in the ground. I was completely clueless as to what we were doing until I asked someone why a couple guys started ferociously digging up the mounds and then it was explained to me that the borrego or the meat of the lamb was buried underneath these mounds of dirt. Layer by layer these guys uncovered our meal. It was so interesting to watch and you can see the process through the pictures and also see Marcos and his self-proclaimed expression “dame borrego (give me lamb)” on his face. Finally, they reached the lamb meat and hoisted it from the pit and thus started the feast. We also ate mole poblano which is the other food that is on my plate. I loved everything. The lamb meat was very tough but it was so good wrapped up in a homemade tortilla with some salt and salsa. And when I had finished stuffing my face, Danny, Debe’s brother, brought me another plate full of meat. I tried to decline but he wouldn’t hear it and Debe’s dad pitched in, telling me that I had to eat some more…. TO say I was stuffed, would be an understatement. I don’t think I have ever eaten so much in my life but at least I really liked what I was eating… we all left happy and a little bigger…. And that pretty much sums up this past week…. More to come later….

Stomachs of Fish and Woodcreek's Perseverance

2009-08-18T13:26:00.000-07:00

The Word says, “The Lord provided a great fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was inside the fish three days and three nights” Jonah 1:17. This is a story that most of us are very familiar with for it seemed to be a favorite among the classic Vacation Bible School stories told over and over. Because of the repetition, familiarity, and unrealistic elements, to me, the story of Jonah became more like a fairy tale like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty rather than something that actually happened. The act of Jonah living in the belly of a whale for three days seemed as unfeasible as a pumpkin turning into a carriage or Sleeping Beauty being awakened from the dead by a kiss but the difference is that the Bible is real with real people and real stories. Unquestionably, Jonah was swallowed by a big fish and after three days and three nights “the Lord commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land.” I feel that sometimes we as Christians become numb to stories that we have heard since childhood that we miss out on real life applications and also miss out on the depth of the beauty of God’s Word.

I talk about Jonah because throughout the week that the Woodcreek youth group was here, this Old Testament story was on my mind relating to the youngsters’ experience here in Mexico. Let me explain, before you think that I am about to coincide the experience of being in Mexico as to the experience of being in a stomach of a fish. Although some from the group might say it is a fair comparison after the hardship they faced. Something I have learned from the story of Jonah and my own life is that ….. God cares more about your character than your comfort ….. and this is something I think the high school students also learned during their time here... Not only did I look forward to Woodcreek coming because they were the first American team for the summer but also because of a friendship I made last summer with a member from their church, Ben. I had also heard much praise and admiration from the MITC students about their fearless student minister as well.

The eleventh and twelfth grade students unloaded the bus all in smiles but with faces of expectations and also of bewilderment at being in the very country of swine flu and ongoing deadly drug wars. It was later explained to me that for them to obtain their parents’ permission was an act of God alone so naturally there was much anticipation to see God work, and work He did… in His unique and infamous style … aka His mysterious ways... I knew it was going to be a good week; I was greeted immediately by Ben’s sister and their physical resemblance along with a graceful character was an unmistakable trademark. Undoubtedly, the first day turned out to be the only day to go smoothly. The string of unpleasant events started with a student missing a meal because she felt sick to her stomach but the fear started to unravel when she started vomiting and running fever. The group was scheduled to go to a village the next day but things seemed very unpredictable when the youth minister woke up with the same symptoms. After a time delay and some intense prayer, it was clear that God intended for the youth minister and the other physically sick teenager to stay behind. It was heartbreaking to watch the minister tearfully send his group off, entrusted to other 2 sponsors. I, of course, went with the group on their journey to the village, which was situated up in the mountains about 5 hours away from the compound. We took a bus the first 4 hours then we had to take trucks up the mountain because the road was too narrow for other vehicles. Once we reached the muddy village, two other people became very sick with the same symptoms of the others. It became evident at this point that this was a contagious bug that was being passed around the group. These two were immediately sent back to Cordoba as we began our work painting the Christian church. After we finished painting for the day, we held a VBS for the kids which was a challenge because a lot of the kids spoke an Indian dialect which was very different than Spanish. It was obvious from the arrival that the students were uncomfortable in the village due to the outhouses and abundant supply of mud but the breaking point came during the nighttime church service. As soon as the sponsor started his sermon, one of our boys started violently throwing up in front of everyone. Then a fierce thunderstorm came and we all retreated inside. The students were scared to death of the likelihood of being the next person infected with whatever this was going around. They wanted to go home so badly. Clearly, this starless night in a foreign country, far from the comforts and familiarity of home was very challenging and difficult. The next day our other translator started feeling bad as well; therefore, the sponsors made the hard but necessary decision to head back to Cordoba. I will never forget seeing one of the sponsors break down crying on the ride back, clearly pushed to the limit and heartbroken over what was happening with the kids.

Have you ever really sat down and thought what it was like for Jonah to be inside the belly of a fish for three days? Have you ever imagined what it smelt like? What kind of sounds he heard? What it felt like? Was he in complete darkness? ….. I think that if you ask Jonah about his experience he would tell you that God was more concerned about his character than his comfort in this instance. The students from Texas would all agree that this mission trip to Mexico was difficult and uncomfortable but without a doubt God worked through them and in them. Our Heavenly Father pushed them out of their comfort zone and worked on their character. He made them realize that this trip was never about them in the first place but all about Him. I thank God for letting me learn more about Himself by living life with this special group of kids this week; it was beautiful to watch Him break down their barriers and draw them closer to Himself through pain and fear. The last night we had a special dinner where we shared testimonies and I had the privilege of giving them some advice. These students had become very dear to my heart and I also felt a special connection because a lot of them will soon be going off to college and I had just finished my college career this past month. So I took this opportunity and shared with them that no matter what their friends, culture, or professors say, they know and have experienced the true meaning and secret of life this week- which is to know God and make Him known. And I told them that I wanted them to remember their week in Mexico when hard times come because hard times will inevitably come and I want them to cling to God as they have done this week. Because once again, the purpose of this life is to know God and make Him known and nothing else will truly satisfy. I really loved this group of students; God really blessed my life and taught me a lot through them.

In conclusion, unlike Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, Jonah is not a fictional character made up by human imagination. And although his story only takes up 2 pages of my 1,034 paged Bible, I think we can all learn from his life. I could seriously go on and on about lessons I have learned but that will have to be another day, another blog. I will end with the Bible verse that this youth group made their own during this problematic but beautifully bittersweet week of trials, “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18. Thank you for your beautiful smile although tears streamed down your face. Thank you for letting me join in on the fervent prayers as we pleaded for health and gave thanks for God’s unwavering faithfulness and love. God used you in so many ways here in Mexico and my prayer for you is that you will continue to mature in your faith. Que Dios les cuide y les guarde.

Ghost Town in August

2009-08-15T09:47:00.000-07:00

So during the month of August MITC is a GHOST TOWN. Everyone including the staff leave for vacations. Right now, Dan, Chuy, and the boys are in the United States visiting family and friends, leaving me with no refuge to make a ham sandwich or eat cereal when the food isn’t very appetizing in the dining hall. Mateo and his family are also in the United States, this is very exciting because just 2 weeks ago he went to Puebla to see if he could get visas for his wife and 2 boys. As many know, this is a very difficult process but by the grace of God he was given all the visas without any problems.

News about Marcos and Margarita: Margarita gave birth to a beautiful baby boy last week. They are both doing great and Marcos could not be happier. In addition, yesterday was little Marcos’ first birthday so the few faculty members that are here threw a birthday party, it was a lot of fun. I will try to post some pictures as soon as I get some.

I am doing ok. I have been in a slump since I got back from Puebla. It’s just kind of lonely here without many people. There always has to be some students on campus during the year so right now there are 4 students from the first year…. Nietche, Keren, Rocky, and German…. We are bored but having fun, last night we watched the movie Twlight in Spanish…. And of course something like the following happened…….

Just like my friends in the States my Mexican friends love to eat popcorn while watching a movie. So naturally during the first half of the movie someone exclaimed, “Ah, we need popcorn” so we immediately paused the movie while someone ran to pop some popcorn. As many know, I LOVE popcorn and Lindsay Beggs can attest to this... I use to eat popcorn for breakfast in high school…. If that doesn’t convince you… then you can ask my cousin Megan about a saying that I have… which is…. “What else could you want in life if you have Jesus in your heart and popcorn in your hand” ….. Let’s just say I am a fan… So after 10 minutes someone came back with 2 bags full of those delicious palomitas (Spanish for popcorn). We turned out the lights and started the movie again.. It was really dark in the room which made for the perfect atmosphere…. During the cute scene of Bella and Edward flirting over the process of Anaphase, I naturally grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bag… some of the kernels that I grabbed were wet and this caused great joy because there are only a few things better than buttered down popcorn. Without hesitation and much anticipation, I loaded my mouth including those that were drenched with butter only to feel the sensation of a blazing fire which was followed with me choking and tears streaming down my face and then I said to myself like so many times before, “Only here in Mexico would they drench the popcorn in hot sauce…. Because here they put chili on everything….. ”

**** As you can see in the picture I am learning how to eat chili everyday with everything but I need to be in control of when and how much….. haha****

How the heck I ended up in Mexico....

2009-08-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

*** I can see this sleeping volcano from where I am living.... it's beautiful ***

During my fourth year at my beloved LSU, I had to make a decision that would forever shape my future. The way I saw it was that I had four options. 1. Stay an extra year at LSU and attain a teaching certificate 2. Apply for an almost guaranteed internship as a teaching assistant in Spain 3. Join Campus Crusade for Christ staff or 4. Return to MITC in Mexico. Sweet Reader, I spent a lot of sleepless nights, tossing and turning, imagining what life what would be like concerning each different opportunity. I was so tormented over this decision that I skipped an LSU football game (I know, I can already feel your condemnation and disbelief, rest assured that I later confessed this sin) so yes I skipped the game to plead with God that He would use a burning owl in Chi Omega house to verbally tell me what to do or that He would put me to sleep and reveal to me through a dream which way to go. Of course I am just kidding and for those who don’t know owls are my sorority’s mascot so our house is loaded with all shapes and sizes. But anyway I did skip the game and I was the only breathing creature in the sorority house that night. I went into our chapter room and wrote out my options on slips of paper and then laid them all out in front of me.

Then came the self-evaluation
……. my thoughts…. Clearly, God has given me a heart for the lost and a love for foreign missions…… I am restless sitting in the nice comfy pews of my air-conditioned church….. I am an American, giving me ultimate access to almost any country…. I love Europe….. I long to see my friends at MITC…. I want what God wants…. OK self-evaluation complete… Now …. Ok, where do I see God working? Hands down, I see God working at MITC in Mexico and I see God working mightily in the Campus Crusade ministry as well…. And I see God using me here right now at LSU as well…. Ahhh…. What to do…….

At this point I was utterly stuck…. My tigers were playing a couple miles away and here I was completely stuck and frustrated with what to do with my life. And at this point I cried out to God for direction and in my surrender and brokenness, He lead me to my suppressed heart’s desire which was to return to my Mexico. So here I am….. I have been here a little over 2 and half months. My job here is the following: translate and help accommodate American teams that come down for mission trips, teach the faculty and students English, work with some teenagers at la Casa de Hogar (an orphanage), and I will also be taking some seminary classes with the students. You know one of my favorite quotes is the following: “The world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a man who is fully consecrated to Him” Henry Varley. And you know I firmly believe this. Simply put, I want to be used by God. I want to grow closer to God. And this starts with surrender. I have surrendered my future to God and now He has me here in Mexico and with this Blog I want to share what God will do with and for and through and in me. Keep tuned…. It’s going to be an exhilarating ride full of good times, troubles, disappointments, laughter, growth, and grace. God is good. And no matter what people say there is no more statisfying place to be other than the will of God.

Experiencing the Love of Christ

2009-08-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

Last night I felt the hand of God. You know, sweet reader, it has taken me my whole life to learn how to receive love. In my 22 years, I have always been so willing and eager to give love but I have always struggled to accept it from others. The fight has been a hard one because I feel like the following ridiculous thought “I help you, you don’t help me” has been programmed into my mind since my birth. This has caused much pain and loneliness over the years as I resisted opening up and letting others see my needs and hurts. Finally last year I realized that the root of this was my perception of my self-worth. I felt unworthy of love from others and I have been going through a process of healing by letting go of misconceptions of whom I am and letting God love me through others.

So this week has been a very demanding week because I have been waking up at 7:00 and going out to a different village each day with medical teams and then coming back around 8:00 or 9:00 in the night. Not to mention this past Sunday my legs were attacked by mosquitoes during an outside church service. Last night my physcial discomfort caused by my legs echoed the emotional pain I was feeling deep inside. Things weren’t going as planned and let’s just say that I was really experiencing the effects of the Fall of Man. My feet were never meant to be pierced by thorns. So after cleaning up from dinner and helping with some simple translations, I made my way upstairs to the dorm, defeated from the pressures of the day and from my aching itchy legs. To my left, I passed by my best friend Deborah (a third year student) who was studying on the couch outside our dorm. The life of the students at MITC is very demanding and especially with this week being the week of finals. Not only did Debe have the stress of major exams but she also had kitchen duty this particular week, meaning she had to wake up at 5:00 in the morning to help in the kitchen. I could tell by the look on her face that she was exhausted so I asked her how much she had left to study and she told me that she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. She had only answered 6 of 23 loaded theological questions. Before I left her side, she asked me how I was and her eyes left mine as she followed my fingers to my leg which was covered with bites. She then scolded me for not putting on repellent but told me that she was going to give me some medicine later. I so badly wanted to open up to her about my problems but knew that I couldn’t put anything else on her shoulders so I retreated to suffer in my bed alone.

Thirty minutes later and with dried tears I was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep when I felt the covers slip off my legs only to feel the sensation of oil being poured onto my sore and itchy legs. My initial reaction was to jerk up and as I started to lift myself up I felt a hand on my back pushing me back down and I heard Jesus whisper in my ear, "Let me love you, Brooke." Then for the next half hour, my friend, who was dead tired from being up since 5:00 and who had a final exam the next day, rubbed my aching calf muscles and put medicine on my bug bites. God sweetly ministered to my soul through her selfless act of unconditionally and tirelessly loving me. Simply put, I felt the hand of God. The truth is my feet were not meant to have thorns in them. Your feet were not meant to have thorns in them either. But the reality is that we have all sinned and have asked for this world. But there is sweet redemption in Christ Jesus. Have you tasted His sweet redemption? How have you experienced the hand of God today?

*reference to thorns: 2 Corinthians 12:1-10