Growing Pains

Growing Pains

During the growing years of my children and grandchildren it was almost a nightly routine to rub their throbbing legs with heat rub as they cried in pain.  Their bones were growing faster than their muscles and each night their legs would cramp in pain and ache.  Grandmothers have a word for those nightly cramps:  Growing pains they say, as they shake their heads with the wisdom only years of experience can bring. 

At Morning Glory we are going through a period of growing pains.  Eleven years have come and gone.  We look back at where we began and are amazed at where God has taken us.  I remember that first ten year plan that I thought was so ambitious that the mission board would surely tell me that I was crazy and nix the whole plan.  We completed that plan in the first three years.  Now well into our long term plans with growth that we could only dream about ten years ago we look to the future with hope mixed with nervous anticipation.

Last January our first group of students, who entered the kindergarten class in 2001, graduated from secondary school and went on to diversified education or vocational school.  Of that group of forty three students, thirty eight continue to study.  The national average is under thirty percent of students who finish sixth grade continue on to higher education.   Of those thirty eight students eighteen won full scholarships to the schools of their choice and many won several scholarships.  This week our second group of kids graduated from secondary school.  Once again a great majority of those kids finished another cycle in their education.  The two highest award winning students were Morning Glory kids. 

Three years ago we began a music program.  This year our band won first place in the city wide band competition competing against secondary and diversified students.  The Jr. band with students from first through third grade was the talk of town.  Our dance teams won four trophies in the city wide competitions.  We work hard, practice long hours and strive for excellence to honor our Father and we succeed. 

I have been blessed by our Father to see the results and fruit of our labor.  I have seen families changed and prospered.  I have watched children grow and become amazing young people with loving, Christ centered hearts.  I have seen Morning Glory grow from two run down classrooms, from a trash filled muddy field to a bright and beautiful campus.  My office has changed from an old wooden table and chair on the front porch to an office that is bright and professional.  Our supplies have grown from a plastic box that I carried to and from school each day to a well stocked storeroom and a packed work shop.  From packing thirty something children into our old Isuzu Trooper we have grown to four full school buses that bring the children to and from school each day.  From myself and four teachers earning a beggar´s wage we have grown to twenty one full time teachers, two teaching assistants, two office workers, a cleaning lady, a maintenance man, four bus drivers, a guard, Rob and myself.

But all this has come at a cost.  It has not been a cheap adventure.  All of you have sacrificed to make this growth possible.  From a budget of less than five hundred dollars ten years ago, we have grown to a nine thousand dollar budget that barely covers our daily expenses and needs.  For the last three years I have not revised the budget out of consideration for the economic downturn that has affected us worldwide.  I have chosen instead to cut corners, to rob from Peter to pay Paul, to ignore needed repairs or patch over.  For this entire year I have put my personal salary into the school budget to make ends meet reducing family expenses to be able to function on Queno´s salary.  We have faced double digit inflation, devaluation and economic crisis without screaming help.  But I can´t go on.  I have completely depleted our savings, I have put off serious maintenance issues and I have pinched every penny until it bled.  For the first time in eleven years last month I couldn’t make payday.  I had to pay only a percentage of each teacher´s salary asking them to wait a few days for the rest.  This next Monday I will have to do the same.  My car is dying; it will take more than it is worth to fix it.  The back door is literally tied on with rope and duct tape.  If I drive it long enough for the motor to reach normal heat the injection system begins to cut out and the car loses power.  The hydraulic booster is giving out and the  whole suspension needs to be replaced.  The automatic transmission is slipping and who knows what other problem is hiding, waiting to rear its ugly head.  My office photocopier died in March and sits idle because I don’t have funds to repair or replace.  Classrooms need paint, doors are falling off, desks need repairs and we haven´t bought new research books in years.  My bus needs tires, the teachers are asking for a raise and the list goes on and on. 

It is not my nature to whine or complain, I much prefer to tough it through and figure out how to make ends meet.  But honestly there is nowhere else to cut and the stress of staying solvent is wearing on me.

So I face a tough decision.  Either we raise budget to meet the current needs or I cut programs or reduce students and we move back.  We stand at a threshold of faith.  God is doing amazing things and we have amazing opportunities before us.  We have once again completed all the paperwork for secondary school and are waiting on the answer from the ministry of education.  Our band has the opportunity to complete on a national level next year.  The huge music company out of Guatemala City wants to sponsor and encourage our students.  We have a great opportunity to deepen and fortify the academic education of our students. 

I am sharing this dilemma with you because I don´t have the answer.  Which teacher do I let go? What program do I cut?  Which child do I look in the face and tell him there is no room for you at Morning Glory?  Or is all this just a test of faith and God asking me to continue to step out on air in faith believing that something will be there?  By nature I am a worrywart, I always prefer to have my little nest egg squirreled away for emergencies. My independent self sufficient nature hates asking for help.  Is this just God working on my sinful self and moving me up one more step of faith?  I don’t know the answer.  Those of you who have been here and those of you who are wiser than I perhaps have insight that I have missed. 

I know that economics are tight; I have read all the indicators and all articles.  Yet I know that God is in control and Morning Glory is His work.  He is the owner and King of all.  I know that unemployment is at all time high and yet people are lining up to buy the newest gadgets and technology. 

So where do we go?  Do we rub down the pains with heat rub and walk on forward?  Or do we draw back into the safety of what we can see and touch? Do we hide in the security of yesterday in the easy comfort of our bed or do we push on to the unknown?

Thirty-two years ago I left home and the safety of all that I knew to step out on faith and follow the King.  Thirty-two years I have asked my family to follow my dream and to be the hands, feet and heart of Christ to the lost and dying. I asked my children to sacrifice an American education, toys, conveniences, and the American dream to live in a third world country.  In all honesty I have given my all.  Thirty-two years many of you have shared in this endeavor through prayers and offerings. Thirty-two years God has provided for my needs and often given me my wants.  Thirty-two years I have lived far from family and home. Thirty-two years I have been privileged to see the hand of God move and work. I have been given glimpses of glory, I have walked through the fire and flood and He has always been there.  I have descended to the pit of despair and flown on the wings of faith. I have climbed mountains and danced in my heart.  I have been challenged to be more, to do more than I could have ever dreamed. I have heard the angels sing over me in my darkest nights and felt His presence dance around me when my heart hurt so much I thought I would die.  I have learned that His blessings come through raindrops and He asks me to dance in the storm.  I have learned that the darkest hour of the night is right before morning comes in all its glory and splendor. I have learned that His wrath lasts but the night and joy comes in the morning. Morning Glory has gone from a childhood nickname to a prophetic statement of what my life is all about.   I stand amazed in His grace and presence.   

Many of those who encouraged me, shared with me in those early days have since gone on to heaven and are waiting for me there.  Women like Tommie Garrison who always took time to write an encouraging note, to send a valentine with a piece of gum taped on, my grandmother who wrote me long newsy letters from home, Ed McCarnahan who covered my husband with a blanket as he slept in the easy chair, who lifted my heavy heart with his simple beautiful breakfast prayer; so many who sacrificed personal gain so that we could stay in Guatemala.  There were so many who made the difference in those early days of uncertainty and loneliness, and now is the time for a new generation of Kingdom workers to step up to the plate; those of you, who have come and played soccer with the kids, filled your facebooks with their jubilant smiles and had your hearts changed by their unconditional love and acceptance. Perhaps you came on a medical trip and were drawn by the laughter of the children playing at recess and you stopped what you were doing to take a moment to watch, perhaps you have never been able to come but the stories of the changes that God has made on countless children´s lives has touched your heart. Will you sacrifice the latest Iphone, Android, a new computer, brand- name fashions or Starbucks so that brown eyed children can grow and learn in a Christ centered, safe place?  Those of you, who fuss about illegal immigration, are you willing to do something to change the next generation; educating and equipping children so that they can support their families in their own country?  I am not asking for personal wealth or gain, I am not asking for a vacation to Europe or the Holy Land, I don’t want or need new clothes or a fancy home.  I ask for money to pay to pay teachers, the electric bill, to paint the classrooms, to fix the busses. I am asking to not have to choose which children can come to Morning Glory.   I ask your prayers; I ask that you share with your friends, coworkers and churches what Morning Glory is about. I don’t ask you to sacrifice anything that I am not willing to sacrifice, to share anything that I will not share, nor to give anything that Christ did not give,

This has been the hardest article that I have ever written.  It has made me look deep into my own heart for answers.  I have had to swallow my pride to scream help.  This article is not about me or my ministry, it is not about what I can do or not do because I am nothing without Christ and it all is because of Him and belongs to Him.  I am writing nothing that I have not spent long hours in prayer over, searching and examining my own heart, seeking for His will and His answer.  But as it was so clearly pointed out to me last week, God´s people cannot help if they don’t know there is a need.

As I have written these words the answer has come to my heart.  I cannot look a single child in the eye and tell him there is no room for you here.  I just can’t do that.  I cannot choose.  I cannot in all conscience offer less than the best.  I cannot move back. The security of the bed is not an option we must carry on growing pains, aching legs  and all.  So all that is left is for me is to step out on air, move on in faith and pray that God will provide.  God is doing amazing things through Morning Glory; lives are being shaped and changed.  So I will walk on in faith, I will step out on air, I will stride on into the wind, I will continue to follow my King.   But I can’t do this alone, Morning Glory needs you and your steady financial commitment.

To give a one time gift or a monthly committment contact Herb Pinney at nima@zianet.com

To commit to sponsoring a Morning Glory child contact Rob at mr.rob08@hotmail.com

 

 

  

Where’s the Line to See Jesus?

 

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…Jingle Bells…It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas…..Christmas Carols play incessantly in the background while people run to and fro, busy looking for the latest special, the perfect gift, a bargain, the perfect pair of shoes, the latest electronic toy.  Children line up to see Santa, to pose for the annual Christmas picture sitting on Old Saint Nick’s lap,  mom and dad worry about the bills and if the Christmas bonus will cover all the extra expenses.  The church ladies run about decorating the church, make the Christmas baskets for the poor, and getting ready for the annual Christmas dinner.  The minister and his staff are harried and working long hours adding the final touches to the Christmas play and making sure all the shepherds have their staffs and the angels have wings.  It is perhaps one of the busiest times of year what with Christmas cards, shopping, parties and all the activity that fills the season.  We all tend to get caught up in the hustle and bustle and find ourselves running ragged from commitment to commitment.

I am no different, here it is the twenty second of December and I just finished shopping, my tree just went up this weekend and no Christmas cards have been sent.  But this afternoon is different, Queno took the girls to the vacation Bible classes at church this afternoon, Chepe when along cause the youth are sponsoring the classes and my house is amazingly quiet.  I stayed home with Queno’s mom who is sick and sleeping right now.  My fingers rested on the keyboard while my mind tried fruitlessly to come up with something to write about.  My brain stalled and my fingers wandered over to Facebook, a dear friend had posted an original video and the title caught my eye.  Where’s the line to see Jesus?  Captivated I clicked on the link and the words of the simple song and melody cut into my conscious.  “Where’s the line to see Jesus, is He here at the store?  If Christmas time is His birthday, why don’t we see him more?  Where’s the line to see Jesus? He was born for me.  Santa Claus brought me presents but Christ gave His life for me.”  As I listened to the simple song tears began to flow in silence down my face, tears of joy, tears of guilt, tears of sadness for days gone and lost, tears of love for the One who gave all for me.”  I thought of the shepherd’s heeding the tidings of the angels kneeling in the cold night, gazing of the face of the Eternal God who became man. Emmanuel, God with us, Jesus the son of Mary born in a stable.

Have we lost the Christmas message?  Is it hidden far under the gold and red baubles, the ribbon bows and bright colored wrapping paper.  Have we lost the awe of the shepherd boy kneeling at the manger?  Are we so busy celebrating Christmas that we have forgotten to gaze on the face of Christ? 

So I too ask the question, “where’s the line to see Jesus’”  In the quiet of my home, with Christmas carol’s playing quietly in the background, by the colored lights of the Christmas tree, I knelt by my chair and asked permission of the Father to enter into the Holy Place just for a bit to visit with Jesus.  We had a friendly talk about my failures, about how patient and loving He is, we talked about family and friends, about how I miss my children, how sometimes the job He gives me frightens me just a bit, we visited about loved ones gone before, about years gone by.  I asked how heaven was, if it is as great as I dream.  We talked about tomorrow and what the future holds, just for a minute I gazed on His face in awe in His presence in worship and love.  Time seemed to stand still; how long I was there I don’t know.  Nurtured in the sweet presence of the Christ, I drew strength and hope. 

As we draw near to the day when we celebrate His birth, I invite you to stand in this line and see Jesus.  Take a minute or two to visit with Him, it’s His birthday after all.

God Bless you all, everyone.

Merry Christmas

Queno, Lori et al.

The Spa

Monkey wants to swim with Melody

I want to sincerely thank each one of you who donated funds for the spa for my personal benefit.  It has been wonderful and has helped my pain enormously.  It is SOOOOOO wonderful to be able to move my legs freely in the water and feel the relief that the movement brings.  The continual massages and hot water of the spa are wonderfully relaxing and for the first time in several years I am able to go to sleep pain free.  Just the restful nights have made the investment worthwhile.  It is still too soon to see long term benefits but I definitely feel the difference after each use.  So again thank you every one.  The side effect is that it has benefited Herbert’s shoulder as well.  So once again thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Braggin’ Just a Bit

Color Guard and Drum linePraise the Lord with tamborines and dance

 

Praise the Lord with drums and cymbals

Rhuanda Second from left walking with City Council and MayorPraise the Lord with tamborines and dancePraise the Lord with Drums and Cymbals

Lucy, shining from childhood

Ever notice how proud grandparents love to pull out pictures of cute babies and children and tell you all about the “amazing feats” of their special grand kids?  I get tickled because those traditional wallet size photos that we all carried in our purses and back pockets have given away to the digital revolution.  Now Gramma and Grampa pull out the blackberry or Iphone with the photo album and videos to show anyone who will look the pictures of Jimmy and Janie.  One of the best things about being a grandparent is “bragging on my kids.”  So bear with me while I brag just a bit.

I wrote a few weeks ago about Morning Glory´s first “drum line” band and how I was not sure they would ever make music.  Well Independence Day has come and gone and our kids participated in two big parades and they out did my expectations.  They surprised me and everyone else.  They showed incredible discipline, played in tune, stayed together and over all did a great job.  They looked really sharp in their dark red shirts and the kids ignore blisters and sunburns and kept on playing.  I was so proud of them that more than once tears streamed down my face.  The color guard stayed together and danced their hearts out and the tambourine team of little girls were so cute and danced until their way through the streets and into the hearts of all who were watching.  I put some great pictures on Face Book for all to see and as soon as I can figure it out I will put up a short video.

But not only did our band shine but one of our students received a very special honor this year.  This year the mayor decided that the young lady who would represent San Raymundo as Miss Independence would not be chosen by election but the young lady with the highest overall grade average would receive that honor.  We all danced with joy when it was announced that the student with the highest grade average in all levels, in all the district schools was our sixth grade student Rhuanda Top Yax.  Rhuanda is a very special young lady who comes from an indigenous family.  She has worked very hard to earn good grades because it is her goal to win a scholarship to study in an exclusive boarding school in the home town of her mother’s family.  She has dedicated herself with incredible hard work to her studies for the last three years.  Each year she has been honored to have the highest grades in her class and this year she represented Morning Glory in the city wide completion.  To see this young lady from a humble home walk beside the Mayor and the town council in the parade filled our hearts with joy and pride.

Now I know we are not supposed to brag but so often my children are treated with disdain and prejudice because they come from poor homes and are born with indigenous blood.  The paradigms of advantage and birth are very much a part of the Guatemalan culture and educational system.  So like a proud grandma I love bragging about my kids and when they shine my heart sings.  And my heart was singing way out loud last Tuesday!

 

Love Makes All Things Beautiful

January brought a very special child into our lives.  Many of you will remember Edwin’s story.  He had been severely burned and had hidden away from curious stares and hurting glares for years.  He longed to go to school and finally convinced his parents to allow him to register for school at Morning Glory.  God provided an Italian surgeon’s hands to enable him to close his eyes and make his scars better.  A loving Italian nurse sat hours by his bed reading him stories while his eyes were bandaged and finally in mid February Edwin was able to come to school.

He has proved to be an excellent student, learning to read quickly and running ahead of his first grade class.  The lost years were quickly erased with his natural intelligence and quick wit.  Within months Edwin became a leader in Mr. Kevin’s first grade class, helping the younger and slower students with their class work and before long Edwin was a natural teacher’s helper. 

His classmates accepted him and even began to look up to him.  Ever quiet, Edwin rarely makes his presence known, kind of fading into the background of the mass of children that makes up Morning Glory.

However in August I would see that change.  The first grade children were preparing a folkloric Guatemalan dance for their participation in the civic program for the month.  Edwin was to dance with the rest of his class in front of the entire student body and our visitors from North America.  On the day of the program Edwin came running out in his Guatemalan costume and danced his heart out.  His scars faded into oblivion behind the radiance of his smile as he danced and weaved in and out around the little girl that was his partner.  My heart danced as that little girl readily placed her small hand in the scared hand that Edwin held out to her.  

What a difference love makes!  Here is a child who eight months ago was hiding away from life, now dancing and laughing in front of a large group of people.  What was amazing to me is that day no one but me noticed that one of the dancers was scarred by life and cruelty of fire.  He was so much a part of the group of children that the scars on his face were erased by the miracle of love.

As I sit here tonight, I think about how many of us are scarred by life and sin.  Perhaps our scars are not as visible as those on Edwin’s face and arms but without a doubt are just as ugly and mark our lives just as deeply.  We are scarred by bad choices, wrong turns, hurts that leave marks as deep and hurt often worse than the scars left by fire.  We hide away our scars from the stares of others covering them with pretense, denial and heavy layers of false religiosity trying so hard to be the perfect Christian.  Then love comes and like the surgeon’s hand cuts and scrapes, revealing our hurt and yet at the same time healing.  Our scars become visible for all to see as love makes us transparent and honest and yet somehow like Edwin’s scarred face those scars no longer are ugly or repulsive but covered and transformed by love make us beautiful.  I invite you to open up your hurting heart and let the transforming love of Christ touch your scars, heal your hurt and make you shine in beauty and laughter.

ONE VILLAGE, TWO GIRLS

Dorcas, 2001 eight years old

Children say the most incredible things. The Psalmist said “From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise” One of the most joyful parts of my life are the moments when my children lighten my load with their childlike humor. A few weeks ago Megan asked me why I was not a normal ‘amma. When I asked her what her idea of normal was, the answer was “a normal ‘amma sits in a rocking chair, reads stories and makes cookies.” I guess she is right, I am not a normal ‘amma; although I do make cookies every once in a while.
Those who know me know that I am not fond of mornings. Many nights it takes hours for me to be able to get to sleep and the alarm rings all too early. Every morning I fight a battle of between my every weakening body and my will. Or as my dad would say my “get up and go is stuck in neutral.” My body desires to pull the covers up, stay in that bed and knows that as soon as I begin to walk the pain will start over again, my will knows that there is work to be done, a school to administrate, a house to run and I need to get my household moving and going to face the new day. It is on those mornings and when I battle and fight constant frustrations with government paperwork that changes overnight, battle with a ministry of education that specializes in inefficiency, worry trying to make ends meet, days when I rob Peter to pay Paul and then figure out how to repay Peter. Days that the kids do nothing but fight, the teachers don’t do their jobs, the tire blows out on the car, the mayor closes the road, and the bus gets stuck in the mud going around the back road to get kids to school. Days that Satan does everything in his power to discourage me, days that everything that could possibly go wrong does, it is those days that I wonder, “What am I doing?” It is on those days I am tempted to give up and be a “normal ‘amma” as Megan would say. Days when it would be so nice to turn off the lights, close the door and go to the beach.
Then God knocks on the door and life sets in and I am reminded for whom and why I live and breathe. I often tell people that Morning Glory is more than teaching children to read and write. Morning Glory is more than a classroom where children learn to add two plus two. It is more than a place where kids play soccer and the girls learn to dance, it is even more than a Bible class. Morning Glory is a place that changes tomorrow.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon going through thirty years of photographs choosing the ones to use in a special presentation. Each photo brought a memory, a smile or a tear to my heart. Photos of loved ones gone on before, pictures of houses that are no more, gardens that gave way to soccer fields, empty lots that became classrooms, toddlers who are no adolescents, pig tails and braids, freckles and toothless grins, now young ladies and young men.
Two pictures sit on my desk this morning. Each picture is of an eight year old Mayan girl from the village where Morning Glory is located, one girl lives behind the school in a tin roof shack and the other girl lives a block away up the road in an identical shack. Both girls wear the Indian dress, both girls come from poverty stricken families and uneducated parents. Both girls were in second grade in 2001 when I took over the small struggling school. Both girls come from large families. One named Dorcas and one named Vilma. Both girls were extremely bright and giggled and laughed like all little girls are prone to do. I can close my eyes and see the girls giggling and chattering in the corner of the classroom.

Vilma, 2001, eight years old

One year later I sat in the dirt floor kitchens of the homes of each girl trying to persuade the parents to allow the girls to continue school. In each home I met the resistance of parents who considered that education for a girl was a waste of time and energy. In both homes the parents refused to contemplate wasting money on the education of a daughter. In both homes I offered to cover all the costs, buy the books, provide the school supplies and make sure that the girls had everything they needed to continue to study. In one home I won, in one home I lost. Vilma got to stay in school; Dorcas had to stay home and make tortillas and help her mom. Dorcas would walk by with her tub of corn on her head on the way to the mill to grind it for tortillas and stand at the gate and gaze with longing at the children in class and recess. She would shyly wave when I would pass her on the road my van full of children on their way to school and tomorrow, Dorcas on the way to nowhere with little brother tied on her back.
Dorcas came back into my life two weeks ago. She came into the medical clinic to give birth to her second child. Sadly the child didn’t make it and Dorcas buried her baby in poverty and tears of want. Dorcas has known nothing but want and abuse in her short seventeen years. The giggles and chatter have long ago left her life. Old before her time, a child made into a woman she walked home with the same lost look in her eyes that I saw a short eight years ago. My heart broke; I should have insisted more, I should have fought harder for her…what if I had convinced her mom and dad…..?
Vilma? you ask, what happened to the other little girl? The battle I won. Vilma graduated from Morning Glory with honors, went on to secondary school with the help of Mary Ann Brown and others like you. Vilma was in the top of her class for three years at secondary school, won a full scholarship to teaching school in Guatemala City and is one year away from graduation as a fully certified primary school teacher. Vilma still giggles like a little girl, chatters like a parrot when she brings me her grade card to proudly show me her excellent progress.
One village, identical poverty stricken homes, uneducated parents, both girls of Indian descent, both the same age…..What made the difference?
Morning Glory….
So tomorrow morning when my body rebels, when my old bones don’t want to move, when the pain screams at me; tomorrow when I yell at the mayor about the closed road, when I rob Peter to pay Paul, when envious people make my way hard, when I am tempted to give up, when I spend long hours at the computer trying to make ridiculous government programs work. Tomorrow when I am tempted to make cookies and sit in my chair and read stories to my granddaughters and be a normal ‘amma. I will look up at two pictures and remember why.

FACEBOOK AND THIN PLACES

A few summers ago I was blessed with the help of seven college kids over a period of three months. For two short weeks all seven kids were together and my house turned into a “college dorm”. The evening sessions of John strumming the guitar and all the rest singing along or just talking about life in general have been filed in the folder of “good times” in my memory.
One of the perks of that summer was being introduced to Facebook, the web site of the young and now not so young. Through Facebook I am able to keep in touch with most all the young people who have come through Morning Glory and have renewed acquaintance with friends from years gone by, long distanced by circumstance and work. It is really easy, a necessity for me, being the computer whuz that I am, to upload photos and keep in touch with friends spread across the United States and over the world.
A few weeks ago a young man, who is very dear to my heart wrote on my wall that my home and Morning Glory were “thin places” in his heart. Curious as to what a “thin place” might be, I went to the site that he posted. I found this definition of a “thin place.” “There is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller.. A thin place is where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of the glory of God.”
I rejoiced and yet was humbled that Charlie would consider Morning Glory School a place where one catches a glimpse of the glory of God. However what better testimony can there be of the wonderful provision and the mercies of God than this little corner of the world where children feel safe and loved?
A few weeks ago I had to stay in the office and work on paperwork alone after school. Bored with numbers, I decided to go outside and rest for a few moments. The silence was deafening, the empty buildings seemed to rest and wait for the life that would inhabit them with the coming of a new day. I thought about what Charlie wrote. Could it be that the buildings and grounds were somewhere special, was there exceptional beauty to be found in this place? What is it that make Morning Glory a place where God can be seen? The answer came to me in a moment. It is not the buildings, the gardens, the playing field or even the beautiful blood red lily that blooms outside my office that makes this humble place special. It is the laughter of the children, the sound of their voices as they learn and play. It is the spontaneous love and unconditional acceptance that is expressed in all deeds small and great. Morning Glory is a safe haven, a place of rest for the abused, the hurting, the lost and lonely child. It is a place where learning and worshiping God is fun, where the Savior is our best friend and every child has a place and there is room in our arms for all. Morning Glory is more than a school or a place to learn to read and write, thanks to all who share in the ministry, Morning Glory is a place that we learn to live.
The more I thought the more I realized that there should be nothing special about this “thin place.” Our lives should all be such places where those who contemplate and witness our journey would say of us: “there is a thin place, a person who reflects the glory of God in deed and truth.” There is a song that says “Lord let there be less of me, so that there can be more of You.” That is what thin places are all about. Emptying ourselves of self and occupying the empty space with God. So often self gets in the way and instead of a “thin place” our lives become an obstacle to others who are searching for a glimpse of glory.
The author of the article concludes with an invitation: “I invite you to reflect on the thin places in your own life. Where is a place that refreshes your spirit and opens the door to the threshold of the sacred?” I would take that invitation one more step. “Is what you see in the mirror a “thin place?” I ask of myself and I ask of you; “Am I blocking the view? Or is my life so transparent and honest that those who see me see God reflected in all I do and say?” Is my home a place where the glory of God is apparent? In times of economic hardships is our faith firmly placed on God our Provider or are we worrying about His provision? Are we so caught up in the buildings and the gardens that we become deaf to the laughter of children? Are we so “busy” doing the work of the Lord that we forget to be still and listen to His voice? Are our “things” in the way? Are we too occupied to sit with our children for a moment and play jacks, jump rope, fly a kite or play marbles? Are we so busy looking at the temporary that we can’t see the eternal? Do you have time to hug a lonely child, listen to a confused parent, and sit quietly with the grieving? Does your watch dominate your life? May our goal always be that others see in us a “thin space” where the glory of God shines through and our words and actions reflect those of Jesus who gathered the children around him and look time to love and listen.

KINGDOM WEEK

Spring break has become a North American college tradition. Most college students take advantage of the week to ski, go to the beach or just rest and relax at home “eating Cheetos and watching mtv”, as Tim would say. But Dallas Christian College has a different tradition. Students choose different activities or opportunities of service for the good of God’s Kingdom. This year was no exception. In early January, DCC professor, Mark Worley, confirmed that a group of students would be accompanying Professor Scott Spies and himself on a weeklong trip to San Raymundo. He wanted to know if we could find work for them to do. Brainstorming in my office, Tim Jenkins and I talked about different things. There is always manual labor that needs to be done, walls to be painted, etc. However looking at the incredible talent and resources of the young people who would be coming we decided to put their training and education to the best use possible. It was a given that the mornings would be occupied between the two schools, Rainbow Connection and Morning Glory. So we decided to organize and promote our first Leadership Training Seminar for leaders and pastors of the local congregations. We planned a five day activity using the talents and wealth of knowledge of those coming. God in His wisdom arranged for Saul Flores a bilingual DCC student to come along and I hired a friend from Guatemala City to help out with excellent translation. Tim got out his instruments, drums, guitar and keyboard and we borrowed a base and the “Tim Jenkins Worship Explosion” was born with vocal singers Kelly and Kasidy and my cleaning lady Hermogenes, Jon Robertson on guitar and lead singer, awesome Travis Montoya on the drums, Josh Watkins on the keyboard and Tim on the bass. They learned to sing and play several worship songs in Spanish and viola we had a praise band. Scott Spies led several workshops on praise and worship, Mark introduced Christian disciplines and the students helped with the “How to study the Bible” workshops. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday for four hours every afternoon they met with and taught local church leaders young and old, challenging and motivating them to get into the Word and study to be able to teach more effectively. On Wednesday afternoon we invited the women’s group from the newly formed Christian Church in Sacsuy along with several moms of Morning Glory students for an afternoon of worship and celebration. Mark Worley brought an excellent message titled, “Born to Fly” and encouraged the women to see themselves as victorious no matter what their circumstance.
On Tuesday night the members of the hospital committee were special guests of honor at a dinner celebration. Once again Prof. Worley brought an excellent motivational message which touched the hearts of everyone present. After the message the “worship explosion” delighted all present with an exhibition of musical talents in a jam session on the instruments ending with an impromptu rap from Ethan.
It was a wonderful week, full of activity, often going late into the night. All too soon it was Friday night and time to say goodbye for all those leaving on an early morning flight for Dallas. Profesor Worley stayed one more week to join up with the group from Carrollton Christian Academy for the next week of Spring Break.
An amazing week for all involved. Lives were touched and changed. Church leaders were challenged to delve into the Word of God, to prepare themselves to teach. We worshiped together, learned together, played together and eternal friendships were formed. Thank you DCC for sharing with us for the second year in a row. What a wonderful motivational week and rightly named, Kingdom Week. Truly the kingdom of God in our little corner of the world was blessed and enriched. Thank you all who made that possible.

A CITY THAT SITS ON A HILL CAN NOT BE HID

I never cease to wonder at the handiwork and wisdom of our awesome God. Eons ago in Greek class Romans 8:28 became one of my favorite scriptures. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” The text literally says “God works everything to the good of those….” It amazed me then and even now amazes me that God can take any situation and turn it into something for our benefit. Then the second part holds such amazing wisdom….”called according to His purpose. How often we forget or ignore that God’s purpose is not always the same as our purpose and generally His time is very different than our time and our desires. It is only when we look back we can see the handprint of God on every event in our life, shaping and molding us, working everything to our benefit according to His purpose.
For ten years Queno and I have dreamed and planned and hoped for another church. Three different times we struggled according to our purpose and things never seemed to jell or work out. For the last few years Queno’s pastor’s heart has been in limbo, waiting and serving where ever he had a chance or opportunity but never satisfied or fulfilled. In the meantime he answered the call to train leadership in independent indigenous churches in the villages around San Raymundo.
Then just about a year ago events happened that opened a window of opportunity and by faith Queno stepped through. With Bro. Eligio Pérez, Queno and a few believers began to meet at first under a pine tree on a hill side and later in a blue plastic nylon and tin shack. God’s hand began to move and we were able to buy a lot high on a hill side in the village of Sacsuy. Construction seemed years away. But God moved in the heart of Godly men and women and in January of this year a group of men from First Baptist Church of Texarkana, Texas came to put the roof on the building that would house the baby church. Amazingly the church had grown from a small group of believers to a vibrant body even while meeting in the temporary shack on the hillside.
The men worked hard for several days leveling dirt and smoothing out the rough interior of the rustic building. High cement block walls and a majestic roof gave mute testimony to the grace and provision of our Living God.
On Sunday March 15, 2009 the Christian Church “A Strong Tower” in Sacsuy, Guatemala held her first worship service in the new building. Prof. Mark Worley from Dallas Christian College preached the first sermon and on that first Sunday the building was full and the service was glorious and victorious. The chairs quickly were not enough and latecomers found themselves sitting on cement blocks that the men quickly brought in from outside.
As I translated for that first service, I found it extremely hard to concentrate. Sitting at the front of the building the view out the huge windows is astounding. The building sits high on a hill overlooking a majestic view of valleys and mountains. Words cannot describe the beauty or splendor of God´s creation. But not only was the beauty and splendor outside on the hills but the weathered faces of the brothers and sisters gathered in that Holy Place testified to the Glory of God.
My mind wandered to those men and women who had made all of this possible. If only I could have captured the moment in the palm of my hand like a firefly on a hot summer night. It was all I could do to contain my tears and translate the sermon that Mark was preaching with such dedication and inspiration. I almost lost it when I looked at Queno and the look on his face was one of such joy and happiness that I thought my heart would break.
My heart has been doing a lot of dancing lately and that Sunday afternoon was no exception. So thank you John, Bill, Ken, Aven and hundreds more. High on a hill deep in a village in Central America sits a light, a witness to the world of the Grace of God, a witness of His provision even in times of economic distress. A light that shines in the darkness because you care and you gave.

HASTA LUEGO

When my children were little there was one word they refused to say. In fact they would run off and hide rather than have to say good bye. Each time as we would leave grandma and grandpa’s house one more time to return to Guatemala, Taby and Herbert would stubbornly refuse to give good bye hugs and kisses or even say good bye. No amount of begging or bargaining could get either of them to mutter those dreaded words. In their minds good bye was forever. Even today as my man/child runs out the front door it is never bye but “later mom.”
Spring break has come and gone from Morning Glory. Two weeks of intense labor and hard work but amazing bonds of friendship were formed. We were blessed with the visit of two amazing groups of young people. The first week a group of students from Dallas Christian College came to share with the Morning Glory kids, amazing friendships were made and bonds were formed. The second week a group of high school Spanish students from Carrollton Christian Academy shared with the children of Morning Glory. Each Friday as the buses left the campus filled with children tears flowed as young people said goodbye to children who had touched their lives and filled them with joy and love. I take great joy in observing moments in time that God gives us as windows into the souls of our fellow human beings. Some moments are so special and sacred that a photo would be sacrilege. Sitting in the cafeteria looking out the huge plate glass windows I watched one young North American girl sitting on the cement sidewalk deep in conversation with a young Guatemala girl. I watched as the Guatemalan girl took a handmade bracelet from her own arm and tie it on the wrist of her North American friend. Two heads bent together, one with huge brown eyes and coal black hair, the other sky blue eyes and hair the color of bright sunrays. Then to my surprise I watched as one of the girls took the shoes, name brand running shoes, off her own feet and the brown skinned Guatemalan child placed them on her feet. Both girls were oblivious to the world around them, caught up in their friendship and loving and caring, and as they hugged and said those dreaded words, tears freely flowed down their cheeks. Two girls bound together in a moment of time united by the love of God.
As I watched in silence my mind went back in time to all the times that I have had to say good bye and I realized that my children were right all along.
Today as I write this my husband and children are saying “later” yet once again. Yesterday Uncle German, the godly man who was the only father figure that my husband ever knew went to be with Jesus. Uncle German was a carpenter who loved Jesus and children. He taught Queno how to plane a board, straighten a crooked nail and how to mend a broken piece of furniture. Not only was “Tio Man” as the entire town called him an excellent carpenter but he was the local “bone doctor.” He had an incredible talent for putting broken and dislocated bones back together and binding up wounds. Right up to a few months before his death, injured soccer players young and old would seek out his help. With the aid of his miraculous balsamic ointment and a natural healing touch Tio Man would mend the bones of those who sought his help. Uncle German loved children and always had a trail of grandchildren and neighbor children with him where ever he went. He lived ninety years fully and victoriously, always taking time to be a good neighbor and share the gospel with whomever would listen. His sharp wit and sense of humor made me laugh and giggle more than once. I remember taking him to a buffet restaurant in Guatemala City and him pulling a plastic bag out of his pocket and stuffing it for “tomorrow.” I will never forget the Thanksgiving Day that we introduced him to cranberry sauce and the laughter that caused.
As with so many friends and family who have gone on before us, we will never see Uncle German again on this earth. Perhaps there are those who believe we should say good bye. But you know what? I think Herbert is right. “Later” is better. Because in Christ we have hope, hope that tomorrow when Jesus calls us home and we walk down the golden street, right around the corner there will be a carpenter’s shop with wood shavings on the floor. An old radio will be playing in the corner and half finished shelves and cabinets will be everywhere. Uncle German will be rubbing balsamic on the wrist of a heavenly soccer player who fell while kicking around that ball with Saint Peter.
Just as those two little girls hugged and said “until later” so it is “later” Tio, we will see you on the other side.
And for all the friends and family who have gone on before we have this hope. So I vote with Taby and Herbert that we strike good bye from the English language.
Hasta Luego