Dear Diary,
Sorry it has taken me so long to write, it has been a full week. Full and a nice change of pace from our usual route. Though, I don’t normally have to climb the mountains surrounding town quite so many times. I don’t suppose I mind. The change makes Rudalfo happy. He likes being able to help by driving. It lets him give back for “the Kingdom” as he calls it. Besides, it lets me see peers around town that I would not otherwise pass.
They are a funny bunch with their very American “Grass – ee – haas” each time they get on and off. It is nice to listen to their adventures each day and we’ve been a lot of places.
Seven days ago we ventured to the San Michael colony. It rests on the other side of the valley up in the hills. They participated in a football ministry but they aren’t very good. The girls lost by upwards of 5 goals in two 15-minute halves. Aw well, they are Americans after all. Where they are weak in football they make up for it in prayer. If I listened well, 45 kids raised their hands after the pastor shared the Gospel indicating they asked a man named Jesus into their hearts. I am not sure how you get a man into your heart but this seemed to be a greater accomplishment than getting the ball in-between the goal posts and they were excited.
Sunday we got an early start in order to take them to church. Not early enough though, we ran right into the protest and Rudalfo and I had to back down the freeway! I hate it when we have to do that. Always makes me self-conscious about my back-end. While we didn’t leave early enough to miss the protest we delivered them a half hour before service, just in time for them to prepare a worship set in Spanish and to enjoy getting to know the members of the congregation who arrived early enough to not have to sneak in once the music started.
If I was self-conscious about my back-end on Sunday, Monday brought a whole new awareness to my physic. Driving through the city center is always a practice in patience. Vendors, delivery trucks, pedestrians and peer buses fill the streets, there is barely enough room to squeeze by! Thankfully, Rudalfo knows me well and he had our passengers put the windows up, despite the heat, so I would not snag on vendor umbrellas or excess on the sides of buildings. When we picked them up from the Alcohol Awareness facility that afternoon there was an energy coursing though me! Pointed testimonies were shared and the whole community seemed electrified after realizing how much “the Lord” had delivered my passengers and the men in the center from. One group, that was waiting to go into the center, even had the opportunity to pray for a deaf man on the street. It seems for the hurting these passengers are magnets.
Tuesday was rough. Climbing up out of the city I was reluctant to go. My underside gets dirty and my air filter groans to manage all the contaminants. I could hear the group gasping for air and quickly switching to breathing through their mouths, not their noses, when we got close. As they got off I heard a few praying quietly to themselves, “Help me Lord to be your hands and feet. To not be deterred by what I see or smell but to love with your Love.” The dump is a challenging place for man and machine. With no shade to be found the workers that “mine the dump” took refuge underneath me while they waited for the passengers inside to prepare a meal they had brought for them. The other passengers that ventured out to meet and greet those that live in the dump carried a new aroma when they got back on but they buzzed with names, stories and opportunities to pray. We all were quietly glad to be driving away, only having to spend a few hours in the place. Though, we struggled not to be too elated know those we left behind are not quite so lucky.
It was funny, how the rain held all day until I dropped them off at the prison gates. Huddling together they shed every valuable they had, signed in and signed over their passports and disappeared behind the tall cement walls topped with spiraling barbwire. The whole place had an eerie feel to it and I didn’t even go in! Yet, when they emerged their demeanor said that something good had happened inside. The girls buzzed of dance party fun and powerful prayers for the women they visited. The guys eyes twinkled with talk of two on pointed testimonies, a drama that hit home and a few men being compelled to give away their shoes to the young men who remained in the facility. Apparently, the inside was as sparse and cold as the outside and the inhabitants were running around shoeless!
Our schedule came full circle today. We were back at the government run compound where the fight broke out last week. I didn’t hear any rumors of flying fists today and the point of greatest delight was a craft project where the girls were able to process and celebrate their stories.
I may be only a bus but even I can tell that this work has unique value. Value far beyond what I can imagine. I wonder what next week will bring…
