“Did you make this?” I asked (in Spanish), pointing to the wooden sofa on the side of the gravel road. “Sí, of course. I make muebles (furniture),” says the middle age gentleman as he proudly reaches his hand out and lays it on his hand-made craft. “How much does it cost?” I wonder out loud. The rest of my team stops walking and gathers around. “Three hundred dollars for a set of four: this sofa, two chairs and a table,” he says as he points towards his house that is hidden behind the plants. He anxiously agrees to show us the rest of the set. We follow him, ducking under the low palm tree branches and stepping over old, gnarly roots that protrude from the ground. He brings us up to his front porch. Dirty black and white chickens dot the yard while two straggly, but adorable, dogs chase each other around the house. A little girl, Dulce, is sitting on the edge of the porch working on her homework.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “Angel,” he replies as he wipes the sweat from his brow and then across his white T-shirt. After days of rain, the sun was out in full force. We step up onto his porch and thankfully into the shade and he begins to show us the variety of chairs, tables and sofas that are for sale. “Who is your clientele?” I question, “Do you sell to tourists?” He laughs out loud. “No, tourists can not take it home with them. The furniture is too big. I sell mainly to the locals and some hotels and restaurants.”
I probe further, “How did you learn to do this? It must have taken a good deal of time to learn.” “Actually,” he says smiling, “I printed a picture off the internet and taught myself by just looking at it.” I was quite impressed. “How long does it take to make a chair like this,” I asked as I pointed to the one in front of me. “Oh, maybe two hours,” he says matter-of-factly. My jaw drops, “For real? And that one?” I ask pointing to the table across the room. He turns, thinks for a few seconds, and finally answers, “Around 4 hours.” Then I spot a half made chair on the other side of the porch. “Can you show me how you make it?” His face lights up, “Tomorrow I will finish that chair. Come back at three o’clock in the afternoon and then you can watch me.” I eagerly agree.
Come to find out, he has been making this beautiful, wooden furniture for around four years. Before that, he was a rancher for twenty years and was in charge of thousands of cattle. “Why did you quit ranching?” I ask. “I was sick of working all the time,” he states adamantly. “I was way overworked and didn’t like working on Sundays. Now I am my own boss and can spend more time with my family.” He looked happy and content, I thought to myself. I could tell that he was very proud to be able to support his family by his own hand and hard work.
We actually ended up staying for about 45 minutes. The family was great: Vicki, Luis Angel, Dulce, Amalia, Arthuro and Javier. I talked with the mom and the oldest daughter and played with the kids, dogs and parrot (which, by the way, Angel found in a tree a year ago and just brought it home to his kids – I love it!).
I am very anxious to return tomorrow! I pray that God will give me a heart for his people. That I can see them through his eyes and love them how he loves them. I pray for a teachable heart. One that is eager to learn about the people’s lives and what God is doing within their own hearts (if anything).
The majority of ministry is about listening. Especially listening to that what is left unsaid. Aches and pains of the heart and spirit can truly be felt and heard in the silence.
“Did you make this?” I asked (in Spanish), pointing to the wooden sofa on the side of the gravel road. “Sí, of course. I make muebles (furniture),” says the middle age gentleman as he proudly reaches his hand out and lays it on his hand-made craft. “How much does it cost?” I wonder out loud. The rest of my team stops walking and gathers around. “Three hundred dollars for a set of four: this sofa, two chairs and a table,” he says as he points towards his house that is hidden behind the plants. He anxiously agrees to show us the rest of the set. We follow him, ducking under the low palm tree branches and stepping over old, gnarly roots that protrude from the ground. He brings us up to his front porch. Dirty black and white chickens dot the yard while two straggly, but adorable, dogs chase each other around the house. A little girl, Dulce, is sitting on the edge of the porch working on her homework.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “Angel,” he replies as he wipes the sweat from his brow and then across his white T-shirt. After days of rain, the sun was out in full force. We step up onto his porch and thankfully into the shade and he begins to show us the variety of chairs, tables and sofas that are for sale. “Who is your clientele?” I question, “Do you sell to tourists?” He laughs out loud. “No, tourists can not take it home with them. The furniture is too big. I sell mainly to the locals and some hotels and restaurants.”
I probe further, “How did you learn to do this? It must have taken a good deal of time to learn.” “Actually,” he says smiling, “I printed a picture off the internet and taught myself by just looking at it.” I was quite impressed. “How long does it take to make a chair like this,” I asked as I pointed to the one in front of me. “Oh, maybe two hours,” he says matter-of-factly. My jaw drops, “For real? And that one?” I ask pointing to the table across the room. He turns, thinks for a few seconds, and finally answers, “Around 4 hours.” Then I spot a half made chair on the other side of the porch. “Can you show me how you make it?” His face lights up, “Tomorrow I will finish that chair. Come back at three o’clock in the afternoon and then you can watch me.” I eagerly agree.
Come to find out, he has been making this beautiful, wooden furniture for around four years. Before that, he was a rancher for twenty years and was in charge of thousands of cattle. “Why did you quit ranching?” I ask. “I was sick of working all the time,” he states adamantly. “I was way overworked and didn’t like working on Sundays. Now I am my own boss and can spend more time with my family.” He looked happy and content, I thought to myself. I could tell that he was very proud to be able to support his family by his own hand and hard work.
We actually ended up staying for about 45 minutes. The family was great: Vicki, Luis Angel, Dulce, Amalia, Arthuro and Javier. I talked with the mom and the oldest daughter and played with the kids, dogs and parrot (which, by the way, Angel found in a tree a year ago and just brought it home to his kids – I love it!).
I am very anxious to return tomorrow! I pray that God will give me a heart for his people. That I can see them through his eyes and love them how he loves them. I pray for a teachable heart. One that is eager to learn about the people’s lives and what God is doing within their own hearts (if anything).
The majority of ministry is about listening. Especially listening to that what is left unsaid. Aches and pains of the heart and spirit can truly be felt and heard in the silence.
“Did you make this?” I asked (in Spanish), pointing to the wooden sofa on the side of the gravel road. “Sí, of course. I make muebles (furniture),” says the middle age gentleman as he proudly reaches his hand out and lays it on his hand-made craft. “How much does it cost?” I wonder out loud. The rest of my team stops walking and gathers around. “Three hundred dollars for a set of four: this sofa, two chairs and a table,” he says as he points towards his house that is hidden behind the plants. He anxiously agrees to show us the rest of the set. We follow him, ducking under the low palm tree branches and stepping over old, gnarly roots that protrude from the ground. He brings us up to his front porch. Dirty black and white chickens dot the yard while two straggly, but adorable, dogs chase each other around the house. A little girl, Dulce, is sitting on the edge of the porch working on her homework.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “Angel,” he replies as he wipes the sweat from his brow and then across his white T-shirt. After days of rain, the sun was out in full force. We step up onto his porch and thankfully into the shade and he begins to show us the variety of chairs, tables and sofas that are for sale. “Who is your clientele?” I question, “Do you sell to tourists?” He laughs out loud. “No, tourists can not take it home with them. The furniture is too big. I sell mainly to the locals and some hotels and restaurants.”
I probe further, “How did you learn to do this? It must have taken a good deal of time to learn.” “Actually,” he says smiling, “I printed a picture off the internet and taught myself by just looking at it.” I was quite impressed. “How long does it take to make a chair like this,” I asked as I pointed to the one in front of me. “Oh, maybe two hours,” he says matter-of-factly. My jaw drops, “For real? And that one?” I ask pointing to the table across the room. He turns, thinks for a few seconds, and finally answers, “Around 4 hours.” Then I spot a half made chair on the other side of the porch. “Can you show me how you make it?” His face lights up, “Tomorrow I will finish that chair. Come back at three o’clock in the afternoon and then you can watch me.” I eagerly agree.
Come to find out, he has been making this beautiful, wooden furniture for around four years. Before that, he was a rancher for twenty years and was in charge of thousands of cattle. “Why did you quit ranching?” I ask. “I was sick of working all the time,” he states adamantly. “I was way overworked and didn’t like working on Sundays. Now I am my own boss and can spend more time with my family.” He looked happy and content, I thought to myself. I could tell that he was very proud to be able to support his family by his own hand and hard work.
We actually ended up staying for about 45 minutes. The family was great: Vicki, Luis Angel, Dulce, Amalia, Arthuro and Javier. I talked with the mom and the oldest daughter and played with the kids, dogs and parrot (which, by the way, Angel found in a tree a year ago and just brought it home to his kids – I love it!).
I am very anxious to return tomorrow! I pray that God will give me a heart for his people. That I can see them through his eyes and love them how he loves them. I pray for a teachable heart. One that is eager to learn about the people’s lives and what God is doing within their own hearts (if anything).
The majority of ministry is about listening. Especially listening to that what is left unsaid. Aches and pains of the heart and spirit can truly be felt and heard in the silence.
