Pulling into the colonia there are many likely responses to seeing the living conditions. In this part of Nuevo Loredo the poverty is not hidden and my response was a deep heaviness on many levels. The task for our day seemed quite ambitious and it was emphasized by the leadership that we needed to rise to the challenge to complete every project. Also, the past three days of work and ministry have been complimented by very little sleep. With these aspects progressing in my mind and in my body we pulled into the colonia and my heaviness got just a bit deeper. Here, outhouses and holes in the dirt are substitutes for a community without running water. Our teams required generators to build in a community without electricity. I whispered a prayer for wisdom; and courage in particular. It has become my refrain for the week. I want to reach out of my comfort zone to speak, pray, and share as He leads. The spiritual weight, the apprehension of the task, and the physical draining were the levels of heaviness I could almost literally feel.
Some children came to watch these strangers who do not speak their language and inspect our clanging hammers. We had a plan for side-stepping some communication barriers. We gave them a paint brush and put them to work! Of course candy and some prodding smiles helped our cause.
By the late afternoon my team was putting the finishing touches on the home that we built. It was amazing. Before the day started we had a concrete slab. 8 men, 8 hours, 1 home. For a family living under sheet metal and cardboard it was a 16’/12’ palace. The reward was the joy of their ownership in handing them keys at the end of the day. In Spanish, we learned one oft-repeated phrase: “God’s gift to you.” One of the levels of weight was lifted. We finished our ambitious task. But my word kept coming to my mind: courage.
The team leader asked me to do some painting touch ups on a home finished last week across the way. I knocked on the fence (upright pallets nailed side by side). A middle-aged Hispanic woman with her 2-year old boy came out. Through mostly gestures I communicated my task. Walking around and inspecting the house, the Spirit was prodding His own task.... I ignored Him. She doesn’t speak any English and what would I say anyways? Eyes on the wall, hands on my brush. Then almost prophetically and instantly I hear behind me: “Ah!” I look back and in her pulling rusted nails out of an old board one popped out and hit her. She looked up more embarrassed than hurt. How could I not ask? Does He have to spell it out for me? So I said: Necessita ayudar? “Do you need help?” Pulling the nails out of her board I began to exhaust the inventory of my Spanish. “What is your name?” Rena. “What is your hijo’s name?” Javier. “How old is he?” Two years old. She smiled and said something I didn’t understand. “Sorry, my Spanish is pecheño.” I returned to finish my touch-ups. More prodding. Why can’t I just be a nice gringo. I told Kevin, do you want to pray with Rena. With palms together we ask her: “Puedo pray para ti?” A big smile. She calls Javier over and I pray for her and for Javier. She didn’t understand a word I prayed, expect maybe “Rena” and “Javier” but the smile was enough for me. God is extending his kingdom, in spite of my stubborn obstinacy. One soul, one family, and hopefully one prayer at a time.
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