We are home from Mexico. I have to say, I’m sad. The people there don’t have much, this is true; but I’m envious of them because they seem to be happy with the necessities.
They don’t need a house bigger and prettier than their neighbors; and if their neighbor doesn’t have a bathroom, they’ll let them use theirs. They don’t desire the most expensive cars. They want a car that’ll get them to work and back.
I’m sure the parents, just like the parents here in America, want their children to have more than they have; but their “more” isn’t the same as ours. Here, we are so overindulged. We are so busy trying to keep up with the Joneses. We could get by with a whole lot less, and use our extra money for good, but we’re so greedy.
Don’t hear me wrong. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with having a nice house. I’m so thankful that God has blessed us here in America. I’m just not sure He intended for the abundance He’s given to be spent on mansions and the biggest TVs we can get, or a new car every other year; or to miss out on life, because we’re working our fingers to the bones, to pay for what we do have. Nope, I don’t think that’s what it’s about.
I love how they live in villages, and unlike our neighborhoods, they seem to be close. Their houses are close, and you might see a bigger, nicer house next to a house made out of scrap wood and tin; but most of the houses were about like the ones in the picture below.
Then there’s the dump. Trash as far as the eyes can see, and the stench is horrendous. I was worried we might get sick just breathing! At the top of the hill, there are people who seem to be working. Young and old. All of them dirty. Then you look around, and in the midst of all that filth, there are shacks. Shacks made out of whatever they can find. Impossible to protect one from nature’s elements, or even catch a break from the smell of garbage. My heart sank, and I just stood there staring.
Apparently, there are people who’ve lived there all their lives. One older lady came up to Johnny, the man over Mega Misions, and asked about his knee, and said she’d been praying for him.
He later told me that she’d been there all her life, and that she was once a young, beautiful lady. All her life she’s lived in the dump. I can’t even begin imagine. You see the villages and think, “eh, I could live like this if I had to”. Then you see the dump and wonder how they make it from day to day.
As we were leaving, something caught my eye. I was too captivated to take a picture. I wish I could’ve captured the beauty, but I found myself frozen. Right there, smack dab in the middle of all the garbage and filth, there were flowers growing! How could that be possible? How could any plant survive in that filthy soil? Then God reminded me that His beauty everywhere. He also reminded me that, people may look down their noses at the people who live at the dump, but He doesn’t. Rich, poor, dirty or clean, God loves us all the same, and those dirty, smelly people are our brothers and sisters in Christ.
There’s so much more to write about. I can’t put it all in one blog. There’s especially lots to say about the people who went on the trip. Some, I just met, but now consider them family. Javier and his family, who run The Casa, the place where we slept, they’re now my Mexican family, whether they like it or not!
I can’t wait to get back and see the kids in the village where we built the church. I’ll be writing about them soon. I cried at the thought of never seeing them again. I’m already ready to go back!
Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the children of the world. And brown too! Children young and old! He loves them all!
So Peter opened his mouth and said: “Truly I understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. Acts 10:34-35