Home

I got home just over 48 hours ago. It was good. Really good. God worked in my life, but it will take me a lot more time than I originally thought to begin processing the things He did. I've been counselled by some very wise friends to take the time to let these things sit in my life, to absorb them, to be led by God into these new things. Some of you will probably be hearing from me in the next few days - I am seeking counsel in some areas that I believe that God is leading me into as a result of this trip. The rest of you will just have to wait a bit, or ask me in person to share parts of this with you. It's not ready to be written for public consumption yet, but I'd love to share the stories with you, and the things in my heart.

In the meantime, I just finished writing a follow-up letter to the people who supported me with prayer and financially. I thought I'd stick that in this post, and you'd at least have a bit of a snapshot of the experience tied to the last two weeks or so of my life.

Wednesday, April 5, 2006

Dear Friends and Family,

I’ve been back in Calgary for nearly 48 hours, and have spent many of the waking moments in that time trying to decide how I would communicate to you the experiences of the last two weeks. There are so many things I could tell you about, and none of them seem adequate to describe the impact of this trip on my life.

I have been counselled by some friends to process this time slowly. To wait patiently for the results of the trip to become clear in my life. I think these friends have offered good advice, and I ask your patience as I spend time contemplating, absorbing, understanding, and implementing the outcome of this trip in my life.

So, instead of profound life lessons, let me offer you a series of verbal snapshots of the trip:

-Picture yourself in a western style dorm bathroom. Only there are signs stating in large print in both English and Spanish how important it is to not flush the toilet paper after using it. You need to put it in the garbage can that is in every stall for that purpose. Seems easy right? Now picture yourself in that same bathroom at 6:00am after five hours of sleep. Your brain is not functional, and you are fishing for toilet paper that you have accidentally dropped in the toilet instead of in the garbage can.

-I spent most of my week mixing concrete and mortar for the wall our team was building. Mostly this means that I spent my week using a shovel – shovelling gravel, sand, cement powder, and mortar powder, and then hauling buckets of water to combine these ingredients into a useful product. The organization we were partnered with has recently acquired 4 acres of land in the colonia in which they are working, and the first step to developing the land is to build a wall around the property to show ownership, prevent land claims by squatters, and create greater security. To be honest, it felt like very little progress was made, but two sides of the wall are nearly completed, and our team laid nearly 1000 cinder blocks a day over four and a half days. We were challenged to think of the project not as simply “building a wall,” but rather as “building a mansion in God’s kingdom.” The long-term dream is for the area inside the fence to include a mission training school, a medical centre, and dorms to house visiting mission teams among other things.

-You haven’t had a true work experience until you’ve been shovelling sand, cement, and mortar all day, standing in a sandy Mexican desert during a wind and sandstorm. I’m not sure I’ve ever been that dirty in my life. After my five-minute shower (time limits to make sure that everyone gets warm water) I glanced in the mirror and realized that my face was STILL filthy! I cleaned sand out of my ears, my teeth, and every other imaginable location! My hair was kind of crispy and stiff – caked with the sand that had been blown into my ponytail over the course of the afternoon.

-On the last afternoon we visited the tourist market in Juarez for a few hours of shopping. I shopped for a while with friends, but we ended up sitting in the outdoor café in front of the market for quite some time. As I sat there, and watched the mariachi band play for whichever table would pay, as we said “No gracias” to dozens of people hawking merchandise I realized there was something beautiful and vital about simply sitting in the midst of dozens of Mexican young people, watching them interact with each other, absorbing the sights and sounds and colours of the culture that surrounded us. It was a powerful moment for me.

I hope these brief snapshots give you some idea of what this trip was about. God has planted many things deeply in my heart over the course of the eleven days I was away from Calgary, and I believe they will continue to spring out of my life in new and exciting ways over the next days and weeks and months.

I was privileged to build relationships with a number of people on our team, and look forward to maintaining those relationships now that we are all back in Calgary. This is one of the things that most excites me. These are people whose hearts meshed with mine in powerful ways, and I am eager to spend time hearing their stories, sharing hearts and dreams with each other.

Thank you so much for your financial support, and for your prayers. God blessed your gifts. He provided safety and health (other than a 24 hour stomach bug that about 80% of our team caught). He worked in the colonia, and in the lives of our team members. This was an experience to be treasured – to be stored in my heart and not forgotten, and you helped make this possible. I am so grateful for your support, your love, and your encouraging words. God has created a harvest in my life, and in the lives of many on our team because of your financial support and prayers. Thank you.

With love,

Lisa

Leaving.... SOON

This is it, what is probably my last post for a couple of weeks. I'll miss the blog world, but only kind of, cause I'm going to hang out in the real world, with a bunch of my favorite people in the world, hopefully encountering God.

I leave tomorrow morning. Early. Like 6am early. Which is kind of gross, but I'm hoping I'll sleep a bit on the bus. Mexico. YES!

I'm excited. Still pretty apprehensive, but excited. God keeps reminding me of his faithfulness, and I'm working to rest in that.

If you're interested in what we're doing, you can check out this blog. I'm not responsible for it, but supposedly it's going to be updated regularly while we're gone.

I'll be back sometime on April 3rd. And then I'll be thrown into job-hunting, as my hours have been completely eliminated from April's schedule due to problems within the company. I was going to job-hunt anyway, but I was kind of hoping that I would have the cushion of some hours at my present job to pay the bills until I find a new one. Oh, well... can't do anything about it for the next couple weeks, except pray, and I'll do that anyway!

See you April 3rd!

Taking Back Ground

It hit me last night that this trip to Mexico is a lot about taking back some ground in my life. And here's the thing - I'm not naturally too much of a warrior personality when it comes to my own life. I will fight to the limits of my ability and strength for a friend or family member who is broken or hurting, but I am not so good at fighting for my own life and soul.

But this trip is about taking back ground. It is about fighting the fear that has kept me from doing so many things over the course of my life. It is about recognizing that I can serve God and even call it missions, and that it doesn't have to look like what my dad calls missions, or what he would necessarily approve of 100%.

God has reminded me over the past couple days of how closely His provision and calling for this trip resembles his provision and calling for a camp that I staffed approximately five years ago, right out of high school. I was terrified to make that trip, too. But God sent the money my way, and the time off work came through. I wasn't even supposed to be allowed to staff that particular camp, because I'd never attended as a camper. But everything came through, and I found myself living at "Malibu" - a gorgeous Young Life camp on the West Coast of Canada, accessible only by boat.

And it was a difficult three weeks. But looking back, I can name one specific moment when I knew that I had been right in obeying God's calling.

I walked into our staff lounge one afternoon to find a co-worker sitting on the floor and crying. I sat and talked with her, and she was going through a really rough time. She had left a pretty rough background to come and work at camp, was in nicotine withdrawal because staff weren't allowed to smoke, and she'd quit cold turkey to come and be a staffer. There was a list of stuff going on. And as I sat and listened to her, this thought kept playing through my head, "you need to tell her your mom's story."

Now, keep in mind I am a conservative pastor's daughter. And this was five years ago, and God just didn't "speak" to me. But I couldn't shake the thought, so I kind of looked at her and said, "I don't really know why, but I think I'm supposed to share my mom's story with you."

So I told her that my mom comes from a very abusive background, that from the age of 2 or 3 on she was sexually abused. That emotional and physical abuse where also common in her home. I told this friend that my mom had gone on a date once in junior high school, and once in high school, and both times experienced date rape. I told her that God was healing my mom, that He was faithful, that He found my mom, and that He brought my dad into her life.

And then I left the room. Our conversation was over. Later that day, my friend came and found me. "I know why you were supposed to tell me that story."

"Oh yeah? why?"

"Because that's my story - the abuse and the rape."

And all I could do was hug her, and later I wept. Because God had ordained something I never expected. And all these years later, I can't name one good reason that I worked at that camp that summer other than that moment. Quite honestly, I was pretty miserable while I was there, fighting a lot of the same fear battles I'm anticipating entering into again this trip. But God intervened that day, and placed me there to encourage this girl. I haven't spoken with her since - never heard from her again after the day we all left the camp to go back to our respective cities. But I have known clearly for five years that I met God and heard His voice that day.

And as I've prayed and worried over this trip to Mexico this week, God keeps reminding me of that last trip. Of the fact that I was reluctant and terrified, but that I chose to obey, and that He spoke because of it.

I know God in a so much deeper way now. Five years of depression and an experience of healing that is undeniable can do that to a girl. I'm still afraid to make this trip, but I feel like God is telling me that it is about taking back ground. That much in the same way He showed up five years ago, He will show up for me again. And I can rest in that knowledge - in the truth of His faithfulness.

A million and one...

This is going to be one of those "deeply profound" posts that masquerades as a random bullet point list of thoughts. No. Really.

Okay, I'm done with the sarcasm now. I just need to make a list. Lists are comforting to me, and I thought that if I promised it would be profound, you'd all read it too! (Ooops...guess I wasn't quite done with the sarcasm...) I feel like I've been running around this week like a chicken with its head cut off - with a million and one things to do and a million and one things on my brain, and in an effort to bring order, I'm putting them in a list.

• I need to phone my aunt. I need to borrow a money belt from her to keep my passport and money for the trip in.
• I need to photocopy my passport, and leave a copy of it with my parents. Our family learned the value of this precaution the hard way a couple years ago when all of my dad's bags were stolen from the trunk of a car within hours of his arriving in West Africa on one of the teaching trips he made. It helped greatly in the replacing of his passport on short notice that we had the a copy of the passport and passport number sitting in a file here.
• I need to email three friends. Dana. Sheri. Kari.
• I need to do laundry.
• I have to work for four hours tonight with my least favorite coworker.
• I need to start packing.
• I need to drive my brother to work at noon.
• I need to stop and spend some God time - praying for the next couple days, and for the trip.
• I need to do a bit of journalling, and possibly send another email setting up a time to sit down and chat about some stuff with a new friend when I get back.
• I need to remember that God is faithful. That I have slept somewhat more restfully these past two nights, and that He will be faithful even if it feels really awful while I'm away.
• I need to tell you that while I'm gone, you can read about our trip on this blog. I probably won't be writing there, but you'll get at least a bit of an idea of what we're up to.

a trust thing

I'm sitting here, staring at my computer screen, and thinking, "I should write." I'm really unsettled still, although I did sleep a bit better last night, thank God. I have a mostly instrumental jazz album, put out by a really talented pianist named Mike Janzen playing on my stereo, and I'm sitting here and thinking, and staring at my screen, and trying to wrap words around thoughts I can't pinpoint and ideas I don't understand.

Last night was interesting, I suppose. It was, well, church. To be honest, in retrospect, I wish I'd gone to the Steve Bell concert with my brother instead, but it seemed important to be at the "family meeting." Long. That would be a good word to describe it. And there were faces missing in the group - people who've been around for a long time who couldn't make it for the evening, or are now heading in other directions, and that made me sad in some ways.

I had the chance to chat with Nolan and Faye, and that was fun. Showed a few people my art piece from this week, and that was kind of fun too.

The pub afterwards was good - just four of us girls, talking about life and work and God and boys and telling stories. Why was an hour in the pub far more meaningful and significant to my evening than a five hour "family meeting" at church?

I drove a friend home, and she told me something that made me smile and laugh and feel totally uncomfortable at the same time. God wants her to share her story. Which doesn't surprise me, because her story is great. What grabbed me is that God asked the same thing of me a couple months back, and I started to do it - but then I told someone who had journeyed with me fairly closely at times over the space of a couple of years, and that person very much minimized my experience of healing, destroyed any trust I had in them, and has left me questioning a number of things about my relationship to the church I have been calling home for the last three years. And, when my story of healing was minimized, I was silenced. I lost the desire to tell others - yeah, I've told good friends here and there, but I am afraid to tell the world at large - it's easier to sit in silence than to face the rejection of unhearing ears. And yet, at the same time I want to shout from the rooftops this thing that God has done in my life. I want to stand and give testimony to the healing love of Jesus. I want to tell the world that He was faithful through years of depression, and one night, He reached down and rescued me from that pit. I want to tell them that healing doesn't necessarily mean tidiness - that my healing has resulted in a life that is completely off balance, totally messy, and worth every second.

I'm thinking a lot about Mexico. Praying a lot for this trip, because I'm really scared to make it. It's a trust issue. In a whole lot of ways. Do I trust some people who've hurt me, but are playing a leadership role on this trip? Do I trust God to uphold me and help me combat these fears?

There are a lot of issues involved in this trip for me. I've avoided anything that could be labeled "missions" for a lot of years. Because short-term missions is really tied up in my relationship with my dad, and that's not always such an easy thing for me. He has definite opinions, is disappointed that I felt God calling me to Mexico, instead of on a team to Ukraine with my dad and brother and another man from my dad's church. When you add to that mess my fear thing - this thing that I can't explain and don't seem to have a lot of skill at combating, it could be a crazy trip. And one of my very "messy" friends is traveling with us, and that scares me too. Because I can't help wonder how much she'll need me, and how much of my emotional, physical and spiritual energy will be tied up in fighting my own battles for freedom on this trip.

I came home last night and found the CDs my brother purchased at my request at the Steve Bell concert. I lay in bed (avoiding sleep - and the unsettled awakenings) and listened to the music and read lyric sheets. Steve's latest album is covers of Bruce Cockburn's music, and I was caught by the following lyric (incidentally, if you love liturgical, reflective music, with a strong scriptural component, you must check out Steve's music):

Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light

God, I feel like I'm stepping into darkness as I make this trip. My heart's cry is that the step will be on that is closer to You.