Why Did God Send Me?

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. Psalm 143:8

God’s heart is bigger than anything I can imagine with my human brain. 

Earlier this month, I went on my first mission trip. Yes, it was a short term mission trip – only one week to the El Florido section of Tijuana, Mexico. It was about planting seeds and changing the hearts of a group of high school students. Yet, what I saw in them, and experienced myself, will change my heart forever.

DAY 1 – The Drive

It was a long, hot drive down to Mexico from northern California and the comfort of our homes. At 7:00am, we met at our church, Cornerstone Fellowship, in Brentwood, about an hour from Oakland on the eastern side of Mt Diablo. The students were nervous, excited, and full of expectations as they turned in their forms and passports, readying themselves for whatever God had in store for them. We willingly grouped into cars with people we didn’t know and became adept, if shyly at first, at maneuvering the unknown territory of getting to know each other in an enclosed environment. As seven vans, 28 students and 16 leaders pulled out in caravan formation at 8:30, the occupants became gracious and encouraging of one another, curious to explore one another’s stories. 

In the lead van, John, Rebecca, Sam, BJ, Brandon and I alternately talked, watched the road, played games and asked each other questions about their ages, our interests, the schools they would enter in the fall, and how we came to know Jesus. John was a confident and competent driver and leader; I was a not-so-confident and inept copilot. John was patient and forgiving while I hung in there and did my best, praying that John would stay patient and forgiving.

As we made a clean crossing over the border into Mexico, three of our vans were pulled over. We were on walkie-talkies and had planned ahead of time to pull off at the first gas station to purchase insurance. We managed to do that, and hook up with all the other drivers. Now the hard part – the loop into Tijuana. We all had maps and written direction, but it was still confusing and, yes, we managed to get separated, with three vans going one directions and four going another. Since we thought we were lost, we stopped on a deserted street to discuss the situation with the other two drivers. We came across a car with a family inside. Blessedly, John spoke fluent Spanish and approached the driver, showing him our map. The driver volunteered to lead us right to the door of our destination. Praise God!

Driving on ahead to the dormitories of Caravan Ministries, we bounced along rock and dirt roads until we saw a bright blue, two-story building nearing the top of a hill. When we stepped outside of our van nearly 10 hours from the time we left Brentwood, I heard children playing soccer in the roadway, dogs barking and power lines buzzing – the only power lines in the area coming from two, tall towers. We had arrived.

Dragging our luggage inside and up the narrow staircase, the cacophony of conversations hit us like a bucket of cold water. The couches, chairs, benches and tables were filled with other students and leaders who had arrived before us, echoing the building excitement and abating nerves, the anticipation of tonight’s orientation and tomorrow’s first build. Slowly, our own group ascended the stairs in fatigue and butterflies, seeking shelter and a place for pillows sleeping bags. Soon it would be time for quiet and reflection.

With the ebb and flow of the evening coming to an end, bodies begin to rest in the Word. Soon they will rest in bed, then in sleep. Lord, protect and love on us. Bless each of us with your wisdom, your peace, and open hands to serve.

 DAY 2 – The Build 

Rising at 6am, we readied ourselves for our first build day. Silent devotions, breakfast, worship, then loading the truck with 2x4s, plywood, hammers, nails, tape measures, roofing supplies and other tools of a carpenter’s trade.

Out the highway, then up a long and dusty hill, two vans and a truck, 15 students and six adults – our build crew – traveled out to build a structure for a woman named Carmen and her 3-1/2 year old son, Daniel. Carmen’s husband had left her, and she had no job, no current means of support.

A 16x16 cement foundation has already been poured. This is the foundation upon which Carmen’s home will be built today; it is a 14x14 structure made from plywood and 2x4s and a rock tarpaper roof. It will have one hinged door and one window with hinged closures. It will keep out wind and rain and animals. It will not keep out heat or cold or dirt or dust. She and Daniel will still have to use the neighborhood toilet at the end of the street. But it is a start, and she knows the Holy Spirit will be guarding her home, and her heart and her mind. She knows the Lord is with her and her son, and she is grateful for the Foundation upon which her home is built.

While we built and painted, she and her neighbor cooked lunch for our team, which cost them a week’s wages. When it was done, we all squeezed into her home and prayed. We did. She did. We asked the Lord to watch out for her and Daniel and protect them. She asked God to watch out for us and protect us. We all know God answered our prayers that day.

DAY 3 – The Message

By the time I arrived home yesterday, I recognized that I couldn’t build again. The temperature had been over 100° with no shade anywhere. Although I was chugging water all day, I spent half the day sitting in the van with the doors to create some sort of shade. Dizziness and nausea wouldn’t leave even though I prayed to be able to keep up with the energy of the students. At 61, I still think I can keep up with 16-year-olds. By the end of the day, I felt disappointment at my own lack of performance, at not being able to contribute.

Upon returning to the dorms, I spoke with the Caravan Ministry director, Eddie Passmore, who assured me there were other ways I could contribute besides building. He scheduled me to work at the dorms today, and to go out with an interview team tomorrow. 

As I opened my devotional book this morning, I read the following passage: “Relax in my peaceful presence. Do not bring performance pressures into our sacred space of communion.” Thank you, Lord, for your voice of comfort. Thank you for giving me permission to let go of my own expectations. Thank you for calling me to your side. How can I serve you today, my God?

Today, I cleaned the staff kitchen, and washed down and swept the dorm dining room and women’s bathroom. My special assignment was to break down two 100-lb bags of rice into 4-cup plastic bags to be given away at the end of the week. Each week, the Ministry staff goes into poorest neighborhoods of Tijuana and gives away bags of rice to the homeless or to mothers in desperate need of food for their children. It was a pleasure to serve those who serve so many. The staff, with the student visitors from three churches built nine homes today.

When everyone arrived “home,” we had dinner and worship time. Several students from our group in Brentwood led worship every evening – an incredibly talented, God-centered group of young people who filled a hot, humid room with the cool breeze of God’s love, forgiveness and mercy. Our van driver, John, - a strong, solid man - was moved to tears on more than one occasion, as was I, listening to the purity of the words and music offered up to Jesus. 

DAY 4   - The Process

This day I drove out with two staff members from the Ministry – Michael, an intern who drove the van, and Patty, a woman who is what we might call a social worker. She reviews, interviews and conducts site visits for the people who submit applications for homes (those 14x14 structures the teams were building). We left from the upstairs office, taking three applicants with us to their “lots,” which are the properties they have purchased from the government, to ensure they have the space to build.   

One of the women appeared to be in her early 30s. She had a boy about 12 years of age and a girl about 11 years old. When we arrived, the boy ran out to greet his mother immediately. The girl stayed inside the old RV, in which they were living on the property. As soon as Patty began to interview the mother, she began to cry, it seemed simply from the emotion of the process. She pulled herself together, and sent her son into the RV for juice for Patty, Michael and myself. 

As Patty spoke with her, the woman seemed to be telling Patty that she had two younger children who were living with her parents. The idea was for all of them to live together, along with her husband, who was working at the time of the interview.

Michael explained that the process from this point usually took about one to two weeks. Eddie informed me later that Patty, Imelda and Maggi (Eddie’s wife) reviewed all the information and made a decision, usually an approval, after which building would begin.

I remain hopeful, and prayed during the week that the woman and her family would receive a home.

DAY 5 – The Unwashed     

Fifteen students and leaders from Brentwood drove to Spectrum Ministries, run by Eddie and Maggi’s son, Aaron. Spectrum has ongoing programs with hundreds of poor families and thousands of children located in eight of the poorest neighborhoods in and around the city of Tijuana to help feed and provide medical help for these families. They work with the city’s street children and the Tijuana juvenile facility and hold summertime Vacation Bible School. 

This particular day, our team split into two, men’s and women’s, to give baths, wash feet and check for lice. The boys were in one hall, the girls in another. For three hours, a small group of three of our young men and one of our female students and I sat and washed feet. As one of our male students put it after our return, “It was humbling; it was a privilege to be able to serve as Jesus did.”

For some of these children, it was the first bath, or partial bath they had experienced in a week; for some, the first one in a month. The dirt was caked on. Our focus was on their eyes, their faces, their toes, the balls and heels and ankles of their feet. Gently washing, tenderly massaging, softly drying. Sometimes, a child didn’t want to leave. So the washing continued; the arms, the hands, the faces. Then a hug, or a stroke on the cheek, and onto the next station where a shampoo was given, or a check for lice.  

One young girl, Linda, told me she was eleven. She had large, doe eyes. Her mouth didn’t speak a lot, but her eyes spoke volumes. And her feet. Her feet had bruises and calluses and scabbed-over sores. They were caked with dirt. The Holy Spirit in me spent a lot of time on those feet. Washing and rubbing and washing again. Massaging and washing and stretching and washing. She wasn’t moving, only staring. I pushed up her pantlegs and washed her legs. I noticed her hands were sticky from a popsickle she had eaten earlier. I picked up a clean cloth and washed her hands and arms. She still didn’t move. I gently and slowly – ever so slowly, washed her face and neck. I took her hands in mine and stood her up, indicating it was time to go. There was a growing line behind her. She looked at me vacantly. I hugged her, and she moved along. It was only then I noticed the bracelet with the red bead. Lice. She moved over the lice shampoo area. When she was done there, I was asked to come to the lice-check area to comb her hair. As soon as I completed the feet of the girl in front of me, I returned to Linda.

She now sat on a bench, hair wet from shampoo solution. A plastic, rectangular, container sat next to her on the bench, like an unwelcome meal she knew she must consume. I stood behind her and tilted her head gently back. The container reeked of a Lysol solution, and I picked up the small comb with the tiny teeth. As gently as possible, I began to part her long, black hair. There they were. The small, brown creatures, crawling, jumping, alive and ready to bite at the slightest provocation. 

Dragging the comb through the first part, I quickly dipped it into the solution, watching the wretched insects dive off and die in the green, transparent liquid. Time after time, I repeated the motion. Ten, twenty, a hundred. Each time, Linda sat silently, each time, I dragged the comb with my right hand, lifted her chin with my left to keep the solution out of her eyes. As she sat and I combed, tears silently escaped those large, wide-open eyes, cascading down her cheeks into her hands. I knew they were there, knew they threatened to call out my own, but I held them in check, refusing to give in, needing to be the calm in her storm of momentary despair. Combing, dragging, combing dragging, for 40 minutes. Finally, the truth dawned on me – I would be sending her back to a lice-infested home, and this would happen all over again with someone different next month. 

I put down the comb and placed both my hands into the solution, then put my hands onto her scalp and massaged. Just massaged her scalp. Tried to rid her of the itching, the pulling, the scraping; just provide a little relief if only for the time it took her to walk home again. I called over another leader and student who were both geniuses as styling hair (I wasn’t) and asked if they would give her a pretty design with pretty barrettes. Mercifully, they did. I went back to washing feet as I watched them perform artistry.

When they were finished, I walked over, took her face in my hands, and told her in Spanish that she was beautiful. It was the first smile I saw on her all day. And it broke my heart.

DAY 6 – The Orphanage

Our entire group was privileged to visit an orphanage today. Hang out with the kids at an almost 1:1 ratio – play with them, color with them, play bubbles, swing them, play soccer and football (our football), sing with them, make them laugh and give them attention. Seeing our students be vulnerable enough to allow these children to enter their hearts was a beautiful thing. These kids were IN CHARGE and it was a total win. It was particularly inspiring to see the male students become vulnerable, to open themselves to an emotional experience. Watching them color side-by-side with a little girl, or swing a little boy for an hour was something they could only have done by being willing to follow God’s leading. 

Many of the students returned with stories about “their kids” and talked about a moment at the orphanage that changed their hearts. I believe it was their willingness to love and give that allowed them to receive God’s love in those moments.

Whether it was a kid who rode on someone’s shoulders all day, a child with Down’s Syndrome who called football plays, or a baby who fell asleep in someone’s arms, everyone gave and received this day.

DAY 7 – The Return and Beyond

Coming home, thoughts were about wanting to stay, what will we do when get back and new friendships. During our debrief session, we were left with the question to ponder, “Why did God send you here?” Students are blogging on the website, asking each other, “What do we do now?” and “How can we continue to support each other?" and "Who can help us stay steady in our walk with the Lord?” Excellent questions.

For me, “my kid” was Linda. I will never forget her. I know that I will rise each morning and ask God, “How do you want me to serve you today, Lord?” And in His gracious response to my performance pressure, He has validated the mission I knew he had for me. So I will continue to be thankful, to praise Him through all circumstances, and follow Him, because He is the One in whom my trust lies.