Have you ever read the book Little House on the Prairie? You know, a large family living together in the middle of nowhere, experiencing every trial and every victory together? They learn how to do and overcome all sorts of things to survive.
My team and I have landed in the midst of Laura Wilder’s story, well that is Papa Marcos and Mama Paola’s story. I joke, but, let me tell you, we are out in the middle of nowhere Argentina. We pump our water from a well, cook our own bread, water the garden, collect eggs and round up the chickens, herd sheep, use frogs as fly swatters, explore abandoned houses, exercise in the dark, gaze at beautiful sunsets and stars, do gymnastics in the dining room, smash a ton of people into one van, feed chickens with chicken, laugh when we can’t understand each other, and so much more. We are living the full-fledged, Argentina farm life out here, and we are absolutely loving it.
This family, with limited money, has learned to do everything and support themselves in every way. They can fix cars, make bread and pasta, build houses, tend to animals, and that’s just the beginning. You see, they use to live in Buenos Aires, but the Lord called Papa Marcos and his family out to the “campo” or the countryside to raise their adopted and biological children, nine in total.
With no income, I ask Marcos how he makes it by. How does he provide for this loud, loving family of his? He said something that I found very profound, “We don’t have much money, but we have our hands and our minds. God has given us all we need.” This sweet 11-person family has built a home with struggle, sweat, and tears. They learned how to use what they had to build a sanctuary, a house committed to the Lord. In utter obedience to Him, they came all the way out here and learned how to use their resources.
The family told us about the hard times that they have fought through. They explained how they thought they would never see the goodness and joy of life again. They believed that all of life’s wonders were gone forever. They felt like a wilted flower with no life left in the stem, possibly dead forever.
Coming here, I too felt tired and, well, just pretty weary of serving, of doing the hard jobs that no one else wanted to do. I have started to really miss the comforts of home and having control over my own life and schedule. I thought I may have just lost all the zeal to live like Jesus that I use to have. Needless to say, I also felt like a balloon that lost its helium.
The Lord so ever sweetly brought us weary travelers together to give each other new vigor, new life in our veins. We are together to revive one another and remind each other why we are on the path that we’re walking. The Lord gave me the word “sweet” for this month. And, man oh man, has He provided for that in so many ways. Between picking sunflowers on the side of the road, to endless giggles, to eating empanadas, to worshiping in Spanish and English under the starts, it has been a sweet, sweet time that only God could foster. I am soaking up every minute from the cool Patagonia breeze to giving Simba, the dog, belly rubs.
There is a tangible newness in the air, and everyone is benefitting from it. The principles that Paul describes in Philippians are being lived out in this home with the most joy and pleasure ever. We imitate Christ’s humility, do everything without grumbling, gives thanks, and live a life worthy of the Gospel, denying ourselves for each other and for Christ. And you know why all of this happens so perfectly? Because King Jesus reigns in this Little House in the Campo.
