Manzanas y Calles

If you've talked to me for more than two minutes, you know that I love Mexico. I love the dry dirt that makes me feel like I'm in the middle of the Dust Bowl. I love the helado callejeros that walk up and down the gravel streets selling ice cream (which I also really really love). I love the warm air in the sunshine and the coolness of the shade.

I love the children with dirty brown hands that hold my soft white hands and tell me that they love me; to them, it makes no difference that I am a foreigner, that I garble their language, that I make strange sounds they cannot understand when I speak to my friends. They just love. Their sweet mothers smile, serving me hot food and doing their best to impress their guests. Most of their fathers are not around, but when they are they smile and stay quietly in the background; perhaps they are unsure of us, perhaps they don't know what to say. Either way, they are gentle; the hands and faces of all of the adults hold the stories of years of hard labor.

Who am I, to be so blessed with their presence, their kindness?

Manzana Lift or Manzanita Sol. Liquid Crack.

Mexican apple soda aka the only soda I really

really like. I brought home multiple bottles.

Don't judge - it's real real good.

The next big, week-long trip is over spring break. My heart was set on team Rescate de Calles, translated as "rescue of the streets". Essentially, the team focuses on "street children"; kids who can't afford to go to school, foster babies, beggars, factory workers, victims of abuse in a system that fails to protect, little people far too young to be abandoned. They're the forgotten children of the streets of Mexico.

I applied for a leadership position. I was denied.

I was disappointed, but did my best to keep Jealous Janet away (I try to not let her come out to play too often). I talked to the leader of Rescate and essentially arranged for me to be on his team; I was excited, I was determined. Two days later, a sweet friend of mine told me she had crazy news for me that I must hear in person. We met outside on the lawn, but I already knew what she was about to tell me; God had placed me on her team. Now, don't get me wrong - I love her to pieces and I know she loves the Lord and the work He has assigned her to in Mexico.

But I want what I want when I want it.

The perfectionist in me knocked on the door of the closet I keep her locked up in. "Two denials in two weeks. What next? How silly of you to even think you could get a job in Latin America for the summer. What were you thinking? You don't ever understand what God is trying to tell you - you weren't meant to be on that team, or go to Mexico, or travel abroad anywhere else."

That was enough of that. She went back into her closet where she belongs.

I was left a bit disappointed and I simply could not figure it out, why I felt like I was supposed to lead that team, then be in that team - only to be denied. It seemed like such a great fit.

I don't have time to sulk around; the day is just too precious and too beautiful. I spent a few moments in prayer. Then it hit me.

I wanted to be on Rescate because it somewhat reminded me of my own life over the last few years. I connected with it, I empathized with them, I felt like it was almost my duty to protect the unprotected. But it occurred to me that my problem was perhaps that I am too emotionally involved. I'm not healed and therefore not able to heal others. This part of my life is still tender, still an easily opened wound. To be a member of this team at this time in my life would almost be a disservice.

So today I take joy in knowing that I have a God who protects, a God who heals, and a God who provides. I am praying that I not only work through my own junk so I can serve others, but that the Lord will use team Rescate de Calles in beautiful ways as He uses me in others.