As I reflect back over the past week, I pray that God will help me relate to you how amazing He is.  I didn't post last week, mostly because my mind couldn't – still can't – process it all, but I am going to try.  I should preface it by saying that some words may be misspelled or some of the details may be out of order.  For someone as plan-driven as I am, the fact that I lost all concept of time is a miracle in itself. 

We left early Monday, November 2, headed to Atlanta to fly out for Guatemala City.  We left the church on time but had to stop along the way to pick up Dr. Johnnie.  When we got just past Oxford, we came to a complete stop as emergency crews worked to clear the scene of a horrible accident.  I believe that before we even knew it, God had begun to work things together for our good and our safety.  Had we not stopped and waited those few minutes for the doctor, we may have been right in the middle of that tragic accident. 

As we sat waiting, Breck led us in prayer for the drivers involved and their families.  Early on, our trip and the people we would encounter were bathed in prayer.

We arrived safely in Atlanta and shortly thereafter boarded the plane.  My nervousness about the flight quickly faded as we ascended above the clouds, and I was reminded of the majesty of our God who sits high above those clouds, looking down on all the earth.  I thought about his omnipresence, realizing He was 100% with me and 100% with each of my children, 100% with each of us at every second.  It is completely mind-boggling and totally amazing. 

Though our landing in Guatemala City was rough, we were there safely.  After what seemed like forever at the airport, we were finally in route to the mission house.  The long drive seemed very short as we took in the sights.  When we came to Pollo Compero, a place that for the remainder of the trip would be an important landmark indicating we were almost "home", we turned toward the mission house and experienced the first of MANY jostles, bumps, and almost bruises.  The hurricanes/tropical storms did away with Guatemala's "dry season," and the roads were filled with large mudholes.  Up the mountain, at the end of the bumpy road was the mission house – beautiful in its purpose and its structure.  We unloaded then headed back down the road to Pollo Compero, perhaps a Latin version of KFC.  Those of us in the van encountered the first of a few close encounters between Dave Merriman and the local drivers, but we survived it (and others to come).  At Pollo Compero, our ordering consisted of a lot of pointing and gesturing.  Our server was patient as we realized how poor our Spanish was.  Jim Rutland was hungry enough to open up salsa packets, gouge out what he could with his fork, and start eating.  What if we realized our spiritual hunger enough to get that desperate? 

After dinner, we headed back up the mountain to the house, unpacked, had our nightly devotional, and settled in.  Whether it was the excitement or uncertainty that kept most of us from sleeping well, I'm not sure, but we woke up Tuesday morning tired but eager to get started with what God had called us there to do. 

The drive to San Raphael passed quickly because of the many sights – mountains, valleys, villages, buildings, lack of buildings, animals on the streets, people on the streets, people in the streets.  And then…no streets, or at least no pavement.  At once, the pavement ended and we were bouncing along another mountain road, leading up to San Raphael.  It seemed to me that this village and people were the poorest we served this week, but they were rich in love and acceptance of us.  As the people met us on the streets, Maranda was the first to open up her bag of dulces, and once that first child had one in hand, they started coming from everywhere.  The build teams were directed to their worksites, and the medical team hiked up the steep hill to the church where the doc would set up.  The hike was more physical activity than most of us are accustomed to, especially at that altitude, so thankfully God provided gorgeous flowers along the way to grab our attention so that while we stopped to admire His handiwork, we caught another breath to make it a little farther up the hill.  The people greeted us at the church as Evvy, Laurie, and Robert prepared the medicine suitcases.  The clinic was slow that day because of a meeting in the market, so while Dr. Johnnie treated his few patients, the rest of us got to know – and love – the children of San Raphael.  We made balloon animals, played Frisbee, colored.  I raced (something I haven't done since early highschool).  Pat kept the kids laughing with random English outbursts, such as "You better wipe your nose."  He and Myra tied balloon animals until her fingers were about to bleed, and I never imagined the excitement that a simple balloon would give. 

I made two special friends that day, Sandi and Adilia.  They're the two that convinced me to race.  After much gesturing, they finally just took me by the hand and pulled me to the starting line.  At last, I understood what they wanted me to do, and I just didn't have the heart to say no.  After all, this trip was part of the race God has called me to.  Acts 20:24 says, "I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace."  And that was our goal the entire week.

After racing and coloring, my sweet little friends took me by the hands and led me on a walk tough their village, down a steep hill to a small stream of water and all over to pick a variety of flowers for me – hydrangeas, lilies, daisies, others I don't know the names for.  With their cold little hands in mine, with their dirty little faces, and their feet crammed into shoes that looked too small, they were giving back to me what they had to offer.  Isn't that how we are to be with God?  Dirty and cold, with little or a lot, giving what we have. 

I thought of Matthew 19:14, "Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."  For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was doing exactly what God wanted me to.  Each of us had a purpose on this trip.  I didn't touch a hammer or do anything very physical.  I was excited about helping with medical clinics but only checked a few blood pressures the whole trip.  The thing God had planned for me was to minister to the children tough His love and compassion.  But you know who was ministered to most from those encounters?  Me.  My heart was so full when we left San Raphael that first day, that I couldn't contain it all.

Several houses were built that day, physical needs were met, we were tired and dirty.  God was at work – in their lives and in ours. 

On Wednesday and Thursday, build teams went to Las Camelias while a medical team went to another village each day.  The roads to Las Camelias weren't as rough as those to San Raphael.  As we neared the village, Jim handed candy out the window, and soon there were women and children lined up alongside the van.  Pat and I stood on the side of the road making balloon animals while the others headed to their build sites.  When the children all had their globos in hand, we joined the teams.  The guys put up 8 houses in this village while the women played and loved on children. 

We met Jesus that day…not the Cist, but a Guatemalan man who's name is pronounced "Hey Soos."  He had been in the states some time ago and was able to translate for us.  He teaches the children English in his six-desk classroom – not nearly enough space for the many children in the village.  He shared his desire to teach the children English, recreation, work ethic, and what it is to have a relationship with Cist.  Daryl and Pam felt led to provide Jesus' classroom with a printer, and Pat gathered pencils and other supplies.  Jesus thanked them with the most delicious broccoli I've ever tasted.  It may not sound like much, but it's much like the widow's mite – it was all he had to give. 

When it was time to leave on Wednesday, a very important lesson was learned – DO NOT PULL OUT A FULL BAG OF CANDY OR TOYS!  The sweet children turned into a rowdy mob, and I ended up being scratched and pummeled for hair barrettes.  It was easy at the time to be irritated by that, but I see now that we're just as greedy.  We are not satisfied with what we have.  Must have more, even if we hurt others in getting it. 

After that scene, I was dreading going back there on Thursday.  We were more sparse with our gift-giving, in order to save treats for kids in the villages where medical clinics and food distribution were still to take place.  This day, we saw that really, it wasn't the gifts or candy the kids wanted most anyway.  I watched kids line up to play "Peas Porridge Hot" with Joan and hop scotch, jump rope, and limbo with Myra, Pam, and me.  They enjoyed the fun and attention as much as the gifts, maybe even more. 

On Wednesday, after building and playing in Las Camelias, we met up with the medical clinic for a food distribution.  We gave simple items like pasta, rice, and sugar, but the people were so grateful.  I thought of all the things in my pantry and freezer and how, even with those items there, I still so often say, "Ugh, there's nothing to eat."  What a spoiled and unappreciative people we are! 

After the distribution, the pastor and elders of the church prayed for us.  The prayer was passionate and sincere, and we felt the spirit of God move in that room.  After that, we were humbled as we realized again the sacrifices of the Guatemalan people to show us their gratitude.  The leaders of the same group of people to whom we had just given basic food items had bought the 25-30 of us a soft drink and snack.  I have never appreciated a Pepsi so much in my life. 

Friday was probably the busiest day of the entire week, as build teams put finishing touches on the 16 homes in San Raphael and Las Camelias, Scott Kirk and a few others worked to finish a project at the seminary, and a medical clinic and food distribution took place in Cherijuyu.  Approximately 250-300 people sought the help of Dr. Johnnie, John, and Laurie.  Michelle was busy taking blood pressures while the rest of us colored, made balloons, jumped rope, played limbo (or anything else we could think of) with the children.  Dave Merriman got the prize for most entertaining that day with his balloon sword-fighting and the lasting impressions he made in 3 young hearts. 

Saturday was the day we had all looked forward to, and there was a great anticipation as we headed back to the villages for home dedications.  San Raphael was first, and I was so excited to see my sweet friends looking up the road for me.  When they saw me, they sprinted toward me with outstretched arms.  Oh, if only I watched for Cist that way and ran to him with arms open wide…

One by one the homes were dedicated to God.  Tough Cesar, our interpreter, friend, and brother in Cist, we relayed to the owners that the homes were not from us at Lakeside or from America, but from God because of His great love for us.  We then prayed for God's blessing to be upon the family and the home.  For those we knew to be Cistian, Cesar encouraged them to let their light shine to the community, that others may see and know God.  To the others, Cesar presented the gospel, and several accepted Cist that day.  The first to accept Cist was a young man, probably 19 or 20.  When he fell on his knees before God, it was more than my heart could hold.  I bent over, raised my hands in praise, and cried tears of joy.  We can pray for those who accepted Cist to be encouraged and discipled, but we should pray also for those who would not turn to God that day.  Some seemed to struggle with the decision, wavering between the religion of the country and a relationship with Cist. 

In Las Camelias, one Cistian family shared with us that they had struggled financially and prayed for God to provide a house for them.  Shortly after their prayer, while the husband was at work, the wife was approached about us coming to build them a home.  Joy shone all around that sweet family.  Joy that comes from knowing God, knowing He hears your prayer and loves you enough to answer, joy that comes from realizing that He knew the answer before you ever asked him.  In their joy, they hung balloons from the ceiling and invited us in to see their celebration.  They told us that when they asked God for a home, they never imagined it would be as great as what we built.  This statement put things into perspective for me.  They didn't imagine something as great as this wood and tin structure with a concrete floor.  I often think about something grander than my 3 bedroom, 2 bath home and all its furnishings.  Jesus said in John 14:2, "In my Father's house are many mansions.  If it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also."  The size of our earthly homes means nothing.  We will all have mansions in glory, but you know what – it won't even matter because our focus will be on Cist.  We will be there with Him, and that will be enough.  What if we lived life that way now? 

Many other blessings took place during home dedications.  Again, we received a much bigger blessing than we ever could have given.  Isn't that the way missions work typically turns out?  Acts 20:35 says, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."  That's because in giving, you do receive. 

The elders of the church prayed for us and us for them before we left.  One last impression I got – not only from the church in Las Camelias, but from every village – was the respect the people had for the house of God.  The churches were by far the nicest buildings in the villages, with immaculately clean tile floors and fresh flowers.  It just showed the reverence for God.  You know, our bodies are the temple of the living God.  Do they demonstrate a respect for God's presence? 

That night, I think it was Rene that said it well: we were emotionally exhausted but spiritually renewed.  Breck pointed out that we live most of our lives the opposite way – spiritually exhausted and on emotional overload.  Anthony shared an anology he heard about Extreme Home Makeover.  The whole show builds up to the moment when you hear tee words, "MOVE THAT BUS!."  In the instant after that pase, you don't see the house.  You see the faces of the homeowners, and you don't even need to see the house because you can tell on their faces how amazing the house is.  My sweet husband encouraged us to live that way, to be such a reflection of God that people wouldn't have to look very far to see how awesome our God is. 

Sunday we attended one of Pastor Max's services.  He shared how years ago he felt God's call into ministry, and now he rides from place to place on his motorcycle to preach and serve his people.  Max's family led the worship service.  Though we couldn't understand much of the words, we felt His presence, and at last we recognized a familiar melody and joined to sing, "Then sings my soul, my Savior, God to thee!  How great Thou art.  How great Thou art."  In English and Spanish both at once, serving the one and only Jehovah God!  A God who sees our hearts instead of our color, faults, or failures.   A God who knows all people groups, who understands all languages, who hears all prayers and praises.  An amazing and Holy God that we can't even fathom, yet a God who loves us intimately and is patient with our feeble-mindedness.  WOW! 

We spent the afternoon in Antigua, enjoying for one last time this week the sights and people of Guatemala.  The weather was sunny, which helped many of us realize how God had blessed us with rain during the dry season.  How He had quite likely prevented those who were reluctant to drink from becoming dehydrated, how He kept the men hard at work from worse fatigue.  See, in our complaining, we so often miss the blessings from God.  We rush around, overlooking the little ways He's cared for us.  Nothing is accidental to Him.  "God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."  But not always what we consider good but instead, the ultimate good – to become more like Cist. 

I thank God that that is how I feel after this trip.  A little bit more like Cist.  What an honor and privilege that He would allow me, in all my faults, to become more like His precious son. 

Now, back at home after such an amazing experience, I'm just bummed.  I guess that's normal, but it's sure not fun.  I know there are opportunities in my everyday life to shine for Cist, to share with my neighbor or the neighborhood children.  But why does it seem so much easier and even more desireable to do it far away instead?  Please pray that I would not let go of what I felt in Guatemala, that I would not forget how great it was to be used by God, that I would seek opportunities to be used wherever I am.  Pray that God would allow me to one day see my Guatemalan friends again.  And pray that He would send others to water the seeds that our team planted until they are ready for harvest.  Pray for missionaries all over the world and for the people groups they're reaching.  Pray for those who can't serve but can support those who may have the heart but not the money for missions.  Thank God for all He's doing around the world and for the privilege we have to go tell. 

With Love,

Bonita