My Top Tips for Potty Training (while beating Quarantine boredom)

It can be so easy in this season to be ungrateful. So, on day #437 of quarantine (exaggeration, but it FEELS like that long!), I was racking my brain to come up with a thanksgiving and realized I had overlooked an obvious one: I AM THANKFUL ALL MY CHILDREN ARE POTTY TRAINED!

This is not to “rub it in” for those who are facing this challenge. But, potty training is like boot camp for moms. Unless you’ve had to go through it, you cannot sympathize with those of us who have. I was feeling so grateful, I thought, “What can I give to other moms who are in this season of potty training?” And I had an epiphany: I will give you, right here, for NO CHARGE at all, my top best tips for potty training! As an added bonus, I will include a few tips I found especially helpful while living as a missionary in Panama in a 500 square foot house with a family of seven.

For those of you not potty training, I hope this brings back good (and possibly traumatic) memories of your days potty-training and will cause you to feel as grateful as I do right now.

Hoping this chases away some of your boredom today and encourages anyone trying to tackle this challenging stage of life.

#1. The potty chair becomes the new “Easy Chair.” Think La-Z-boy, people. Your potty trainee will now have his/her own chair. Make sure it is child-sized, and fun and attractive to your child. Also, don’t sequester the potty chair away from your family and daily goings-on. I actually put my kids’ chair in the middle of the house, directly where all the activity of the day is happening. Your potty trainee will spend possibly hours on this chair, so he is going to want to feel he is still part of the family. I made Joey a mini library/toy basket right next to his chair. He could look at books, play with toys, and in general, get used to the feel of unrelenting plastic on the tender backside. IMPORTANT: pair tip #2 with tip #1:

Potty chair + juice= The first step!

#2. Give that kid some juice! (At least for as long as you are home and near the potty chair.) This shouldn’t be difficult for all you in quarantine out there. Home is where it’s happening these days! The reason we juice up the kid is basic science: we are creating more opportunities for your child to NEED to use the potty, and thus hopefully LEARN to use the potty.

#3. Stay home, strip down. The reason for this is clear: the less clothing your child has to wrestle to use the potty, the easier it will be for him. Also, it will feel strange for him to potty without a diaper on, and that may be all the trigger they need to try to potty in a toilet. This worked especially well for us in Panama because we had concrete floors. Accidents were a quick mop-up. We put Joey in a longer t-shirt so he had some privacy while doing life commando. Just to note: no progress will be made on potty training if this advice is misconstrued to mean the parents. But, you COULD have another potty trainee in a couple of years!

#4. Have a reward system that works for your child. A friend of mine bought her child a bag full of cool dollar-store toys that he was rewarded with each time he used the potty properly. (No potty, no toy.) One thing my kids really liked were Pez dispensers. Not only do they get a little treat (but not so big that I am creating a sugar addiction along with the potty training), but it was also like a magic trick: They had to pull back the head on the pez dispenser to get their reward. Kids love this! Another great thing to build into your reward system is for everyone to dance, clap and sing when your child is successful. Take care your celebrating doesn’t interrupt your trainee’s concentration. Clap, dance and sing AFTER the magic has happened.

#5. This is less of a tip and more of a rule: After hours of dryness sitting on the potty chair, your trainee will at some point release an entire morning’s worth of juice into their brand new “big boy underwear.” If your child does not do this, HE IS NOT NORMAL. So, when this dreaded moment happens, celebrate the fact that your child is healthy and normal. This leads me to tip #6:

#6. Have a bath bucket ready in the shower for quick clean-ups. (This is probably only helpful for missionaries who don’t have access to a bath tub.) But, sometimes the mess is easier to deal with by stripping the small one down and letting water wash away the shame. Meanwhile, mom can employ deep breathing and relaxation exercises to keep from losing her cool. You may think I am joking, here. But, in all honesty, potty training can make you want to pull out your hair. Especially if there have been multiple “oopsies” in a short amount of time. So, listen to your favorite worship song, quote a Bible verse, look at old photos of your baby and reminisce, etc. In general, remind yourself that this is a season and IT WILL PASS. All this can be done while your little one splashes around in the tub, which is a great way for HIM to de-stress, too!

If you only have a shower, a bucket bath will work!

#7. IMMEDIATELY after waking, place your child on the potty. One of the indicators your child is ready to potty train is when he/she wakes up dry. Remember, one of the first things YOU do when you get up is eliminate everything that was “storing up” while you slept. Your child hasn’t created the habit of immediately going to the bathroom when he wakes, so he won’t think to do it. Also, if you notice he starts waking up wet, try waking him 20-30 min earlier than his usual time and immediately put him on the potty. A lot of accidents happen as your child is waking up, and you can help prevent this by getting him to the bathroom sooner.

#8. When dad snuggles with your potty trainee, make them use DAD’s fleece blanket, not yours. Something about snuggles just invites a potty accident. You are less emotionally involved (and find it funnier) if your husband’s blanket gets soaked in the process, not yours.

This tip comes from personal experience. This is MY blanket in the photo, not daddy’s. So, you can imagine how this scene ends.

#9. Get some “Big boy” or “Big girl” underwear your child can get excited about. I have done this with each of my five children. Some of mine were apparently more vain than others, and were greatly motivated by their cartoon underwear. Joey tried really hard not to pee or poop on “Marshall and Chase” from Paw Patrol. Others of my kids could care less. I remember one morning after I made a big deal over Isaac’s big boy underwear. He looked at me, trotted into his room and came back out, handing me a diaper. The message was clear: “Mom, you are the only one who thinks these whitey tighties are cool. Give me back my diapers!” (Isaac is 16 now and it’s important to note that this story did NOT happen recently.)

#10. When using a latrine/outhouse: don’t let your child fall in. (You’re welcome for that handy tip!) Another helpful tip when using a latrine: DON’T LOOK when he shines daddy’s flashlight into the latrine. There are things in the bowels of a latrine that are best left unknown. Let’s just say I know this because I MIGHT have looked once…and wished I hadn’t. This tip is very helpful on the mission field, but if you find yourself in a camping situation, it also applies.

DO NOT LOOK IN THE LATRINE! Especially with a flashlight at night.

#11. Always remember: THIS TOO WILL PASS. When you feel you will never make it, remind yourself that one of these days you will look back and remember these days with fondness. And if you are having a series of failures and feel your child is making NO PROGRESS, don’t rule out the possibility of buying another month’s supply of diapers, kissing your little one on the face, and trying again next month. He (or you) just may not be ready, and that’s ok!

Potty training can be exhausting… we decided to try another day.

My five children are all happily potty trained today, for which I am extremely grateful. I had NO potty training geniuses: Of my five children, none of them figured this out in a day. Each of them caught on at their own speed and over time. But, we did it, and we did it together. Now, if I could only figure out how to house train my dog….?

We did it!

P.S. Those of you who have any further advice or tips, feel free to add in the comments below! Though I blended these tips with humor, they really do work, and hopefully someone out there can put these tips to good use!

Weakness: the topic no one wants to talk about

I have a confession to make: Though I love what I do, I struggle more days than not. So many of you encourage me, telling me, “You are so strong; so brave to do what you do… AND WITH A FAMILY! It’s so inspiring!”

But most mornings, when I wake up, my superhero cape has dissolved into a misty cloud I barely catch a glimpse of as reality closes in. I feel overwhelmed, under-qualified, and to be honest, I just feel tired.

It’s such a weird contrast: I get to witness God do such extraordinary things! I have an amazing calling to daily do missions and to share His GOOD NEWS to so many who have never heard. And yet, often at the end of my day, all is not “rainbows and roses:” I’m disappointed by those to whom I have given my all, but who still don’t respond; I feel the burden of yet more unreached people; I hear the annoying buzz of unanswered questions; I feel torn by my obligations to be a good wife/mom AND to steward a thriving, yet very busy, ministry. In these moments, I come to the inevitable conclusion:

I am not a superhero. I am not a super-mom. I am not a super-woman. I am not a super-anything! I am just an everyday person, living an impossible life and needing HIM every second of my day.

It would be easier to blog about my last biggest “success.” Or to share a recent testimony, of which, because God is so good, there is no lack.

But, sometimes, I just want you to know that I am weak. That, except for His staying power in me, I cannot do what I do. Without Him, I am not very strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9 (The Living Bible)

“Each time he said, “No. But I am with you; that is all you need. My power shows up best in weak people.” Now I am glad to boast about how weak I am; I am glad to be a living demonstration of Christ’s power, instead of showing off my own power and abilities.”

A couple of weeks ago, I caught a stomach virus that left me running to the bathroom, for multiple reasons. I had mountains of work to do: people to visit, meetings to attend, children to care for, ministry to run, and a house to clean. But, I found myself flat in bed for two days. In addition, the second day of my illness, I rolled over in bed, and started experiencing extreme vertigo. For those of you who may not know what this is, it is NOT a slightly dizzy feeling one has after swimming all day, or when you spin in a circle for a moment. It is rapid, extreme spinning that prevents you from walking, and is so severe, it causes instant nausea and vomiting.

I am a “go to” girl! I love to get things done. I love to be independent and finish tasks and care for my family. I hate feeling sick, and I HATE feeling weak!

For three days, I was flat on my back, feeling the weight of my growing to-do list. One morning, I got up and was hopeful I could “get back to work” and then the room began to spin again. I was so frustrated, I started crying.

Wrapped in my cocoon of self-pity, frustration and helplessness, I cried out to God,

“What is going on???!!!”

In spite of my exasperation and demands, He answered me. I didn’t hear anything, but I felt it. His peace began to permeate me. He seemed to be telling me to just rest, trust, and let Him be God in my life, no matter how I feel. As I was lying in bed, tears dampening my cheeks, I was reminded of a prayer I had prayed over a man in a wheelchair the week before: “Jesus, You are the anchor for His soul.”

This sentence began to echo through my mind. HE is the anchor for my soul. I realized in the midst of my helplessness and frustration, that I DID have an powerful choice: I could hope and rest in Him!

Hebrews 6:19 (The Voice)

“That hope is real and true, an anchor to steady our restless souls, a hope that leads us back behind the curtain to where God is…”

When does a boat need an anchor? When the waters are choppy, the current is strong, and the pilot of the boat needs to rest, but cannot risk damage to the boat. Also, an anchor is really small in comparison to the size of the boat.

This is such a beautiful picture of hope! Hoping in Him doesn’t feel like much. We feel we aren’t doing enough. In fact, the effort seems so small compared to the immense size of our monumental problems, that it’s tempting to just see it as irrelevant.

But, hoping in Him, waiting on Him, looking to Him is so powerful! It steadies us in the wildest times, in the hardest moments.

When we are exhausted, and can’t seem to get any momentum, rest or consolation, hoping in Him IS our rest. HE is my consolation. I can park my boat and rest, knowing that He is the anchor who will hold me true.

The following night, at 3am, I woke with the room terrifically spinning. I cried out, asking Rob for help. He immediately awoke, and began to pray for me. All I could say as I was desperately wanting to sleep and to experience relief was, “Jesus, I hold onto You. You are the anchor for my soul. I hold onto You…” I repeated this over and over.

At some point, I realized I was wrong: I wasn’t holding onto Him. HE was holding onto ME! It was a powerful moment when I let go and let Him do what He does best.

My soul began to rest. As it did, the spinning slowed, my fears receded, and though the waters were choppy, my soul was unmoved. He was holding onto me and He wasn’t letting go.

That was 2 1/2 weeks ago, and I haven’t had another vertigo episode since that night. I have had moments of slight dizziness. My responsibilities to my family, ministry, etc, haven’t disappeared. I still can feel overwhelmed.

But, I feel stronger. Only now, I know, it isn’t me. It is the staying power of His presence in me!

So, I am no super-hero. I am not a supermom. I am not a superwoman.

But, I have discovered a secret that makes me strong:

He is the anchor for my soul.

A Tale of Two Ships

Last year, I stood on the largest ship I had ever been on. It was a giant metal behemoth, rising up out of the water with the height of a three-story building. The “Pacific Hope,” a YWAM ship, brings medical and disaster relief to ports around the world. It is 180 feet long (half the length of a football field), and weighs 480 tons: the equivalent of piling 70 adult male elephants on a scale and weighing them at the same time. How does something so massive, made out of metal, actually float?!

More impressive than the outside, is the inside. Especially a room few visitors get to see: the engine room. This is a large room at the lowest part of the ship, full of massive pieces of steel machinery, cogs and valves, pistons and pumps.

It is this room that carries the ship to safe harbor.

The Engine Room

The Pacific Hope

 

This week, as my family is traveling the U.S. visiting our friends and supporters, I feel that I am getting a glimpse of the engine room of our mission. Today, I sat with three women who meet weekly to study the Bible and pray together in Joplin, Missouri. As I shared with them the testimonies of our past year in Mexico, I saw these women smile as they began to hear how God had used their prayers on our behalf.

Every story of breakthrough, transformed life, or victory that took place last year had its beginnings in the “engine room” of prayer.

After I had shared several inspiring testimonies from the past year, these three women took my hands and prayed with me. They prayed over my family, our YWAM base, and everything that God is using us to do in Mexico. I listened as one of our dear supporters, Patty, prayed. When she began to pray for our family, she listed off my children’s names as effortlessly as I do at home when I am calling them to dinner. That’s when I had a blinding realization: she speaks their names daily, as often as I do! These prayer warriors who have committed to pray for us really DO pray faithfully and regularly for us. They say our names throughout the day, each and every day.

This entire first year as we have moved to Mexico and started a brand-new mission work in San Juan del Rio, I have been so aware of one constant: The FAVOR of God. It meets us everywhere we go! At exactly the right time, the apartment that we need will open up; we find a mechanic to work on our vehicle who does a repair that would have cost thousands of dollars in the U.S., and this Mexican, (who could see a “white person” as an opportunity to make extra money), does the repair without charging for his labor; we end up “accidentally” meeting the director of the government office, who makes phone calls on our behalf and cuts out hours of extra paper-work and hassle by personally seeing to our situation. Time and time again, this supernatural favor has met us, has overtaken us, has overwhelmed us! This is no accidental happening, no circumstance of chance. This God we serve is real, and He meets us EVERY DAY as we walk committed to obedience.

Today, I realized this favor we walk in isn’t JUST because God is good. Which HE IS!

But, this beautiful ship we are sailing is powered by a secret room: the engine room. The place where prayers are made and HEARD by Our Heavenly Father!

This engine room is staffed by people the world over, people who forget about themselves and intercede on our behalf.

This group of people is as diverse as it is committed: A woman on her knees at home, the carpet worn by her frequent visits; A young person, praying as he sees our photo on Instagram; church congregations, who join hands and lift us up, their hearts drawn by the Father’s heart for Mexico; Worship leaders, who sing over us as they pray; My mother-in-law, who refuses to take “no” for an answer, especially in prayer; People from other countries, who have never been to Mexico, but know that there are others out there who need Jesus; Widows who miss their husbands but pray for us, even as they walk through grief; Busy moms with homeschooling children bow their heads with their children in their “school-rooms” to remember us in prayer; Businessmen, pastors, lawyers, teachers, doctors, nurses, siblings, parents, grandmothers, children: this group of people who staff the engine room of prayer for us are many and varied.

In an age where it can be so easy to get caught up in our own accomplishments, successes, hobbies, pastimes, comforts and joys, there are people who turn their backs on the moment and pray into eternity.

Who does that anymore???

YOU do.

If you are reading this, chances are, you have prayed for us at least once. You are a piece of this incredible operation that God has created. Yes, we are pushing into new waters. Each day, we feel new breezes and witness new things. But, we would be crippled if it weren’t for you. The people who toil faithfully in the deep, hidden places on this mission ship are vital to us. Those who put in the time, in the dark, never to see what we get to see, but committed to the journey nonetheless.

You are part of that group. Never believe that what you do is insignificant. Your prayers keep us alive, they keep us moving, they keep us focused. Your prayers make miracles happen every single day.

Did you know that in the last year since we moved to Mexico, our children have not been sick? We haven’t had to take them to the doctor for a stomach illness, cold, infection, broken bone, ANYTHING. We have five kids! And they are living under the protection and covering of an engine room of prayers.

So, I’d like to dedicate this blog to you. The hidden ones in the engine room of this ship. Prayer warriors. Mothers and fathers for the next generation. You are not satisfied with the comfort and ease of everyday life. You are always looking for more. And you bring us along with you.

How can I thank you? You know my children’s names as well as your own….

I am humbled.

I am grateful.

My heart overflows.

As we share our stories and then part with hugs, I keep hearing this promise:

“I will be praying for you.”

And now I believe it. It’s just not a nice thing to say that you forget as soon as we leave.

When we return to Mexico and begin our second year pioneering our mission, I will think of you and remember:

We are not alone.

Some of our prayer warriors in Joplin, Missouri

Crackers and Cream Cheese

I never thought crackers and cream cheese could have any spiritual purpose. But, if there is one thing I am learning doing missions work in Mexico, is that little things can have great impact. Even a snack.

As a missionary family, we are involved in a variety of churches in our area. Some Sundays are what we call our “Marathon Sunday.” We will begin the day attending a 10 a.m. service in the town we live in, San Juan del Río. Then, we will pile into the car and drive about an hour away, to a country church in “San Francisco.” (Not to be confused with San Francisco, California. Nope. Not even close!)

We attend, and often preach to the little congregation there, numbering about 40 attendees, if you include the cows that are meandering about outside in the grass parking lot. By the time we finish the service, it is 3:00 in the afternoon, and my family (who breakfasted at 9 a.m.), is feeling pretty grumpy and faint from hunger. 

After following this routine for a couple of weeks, “Momma” got smart and decided we needed a strategy to survive “Marathon Sundays:” a snack! Now, we stop at a roadside convenient store, and purchase cream cheese and crackers. I keep a roll of paper towels and plastic spoons on hand in the car, and my family of 7 each gets a paper towel, (except for dad cause he is the driver), and a steady supply of crackers spread with cream cheese, as we travel down the Mexican highway. 

We hadn’t been doing this very long when Sandra, a friend of ours who attends church in San Francisco, asked me to meet with a friend of hers who needed help: Jane* had two small children, but hadn’t seen them for weeks because her husband was leaving her. In her despair, she believed suicide was her only option. I met Jane and began to ask her if she knew the Lord. She had never known more than an occasional religious service that held no meaning for her. 

As I began to explain to her the plan of salvation and the great love that Father God has for her, she clung to my words like a drowning man to a lifesaver, tears streaming down her cheeks. I spent some time reading verses from the Bible, and then prayed for her. She told me simply hearing the Bible had brought her peace.

When I encouraged her to continue reading, I found out she didn’t have a Bible! That week, I shopped around for the loveliest Bible I could find and brought it to her. Her smile made the two hour trip worthwhile.

Several months later, when I was visiting with her again, she committed her life to Jesus.

Jane loves her new Bible!

A few weeks after meeting Jane, Sandra told me her mother was dying and asked me if I would speak with her. I agreed, and then Sandra cautioned me that her mother had never accepted Sandra’s beliefs and that every time Jesus was brought up, her mother would become angry and insist she would hear no more. Oh boy. Not exactly what you want to hear right before you take the plunge to share the Gospel!

Sandra’s mother is about 4 1/2 feet tall, and she was in a frail condition, bent over almost double. She was struggling to walk, and required assistance for basic tasks. But, Sandra was determined. She introduced us and I began to call her mother, “Mamita.” (meaning “little mother” in Spanish, a term of endearment here).  I began to explain to her the plan of salvation. She was agitated, moving about in her seat, running her hands over her eyes, and I braced myself for an explosion. The one advantage I had was that Mexican culture is very gracious, and it would be a serious affront for a Mexican to berate, confront, or argue with someone they had just met. So, I plunged ahead, but I could see she wasn’t happy with the conversation. 

I began to share with her about my own Grandma and her rejection of our beliefs. My Grandma used to become angry and lash out when I would speak to her about Jesus. But, she loved to travel and would plan extensive trips. One day, my dad asked her if she would like to plan her trip to Heaven, and began to share books with her about Heaven and the life after death. My grandma began read and consider, and over time, accepted Jesus as her Lord. 

I had just finished the story when “Mamita” looked up at me (making eye contact for the first time since the conversation had begun), and said, 

“I need to go to the bathroom.” 

My hopes for her plummeted.  “This is not going well,” I thought.

Twenty minutes later, Mamita was sitting back down again, and I was at a loss for how to proceed. I began to ask her about how she had been feeling. She began to tell me about her pain, her elevated blood pressure, blood sugars, mobility issues, etc. 

“But, you know the thing that is disturbing me the most right now are my nerves,” she confided in me. 

“Your nerves? What is happening?”

“I must be going crazy. For the last week, just as I am falling asleep, these horrible voices begin to speak to me,” she replied. “They are saying things like, ‘You belong to us.’ ‘You’re coming with us.’ I sit up in bed and look around to see who is saying such horrible things, but no one is there. I feel such terrible fear and then begin to have a panic attack.”

Chills began to run up my arms as she confided in me. I gently took her by the hands and told her, 

“Mamita, that isn’t your nerves. Those are spirits who have gathered to receive you when you die. You see, when you don’t belong to Jesus, the One who represents life, and hope and peace, there is another reality. And that is an eternity without God and His presence. These spirits represent the torment, fear, and darkness that awaits those who have not accepted what Jesus did for us to make us God’s own children.”

I went on to explain what Jesus did for us on the cross, and the power of entrusting our lives into His care. She listened with her head bowed, gazing at the ground. When I finished, she looked me in the eye again and said, 

“I’d like to give my life to Jesus.” 

Sandra was there beside us as we prayed. We were three women sitting in a circle: One woman, a daughter, berated for her beliefs, now silently weeping as she watched her mother take a step she had believed impossible. Another woman, her hands gripping mine, the wrinkles and sign of age giving way to a beautiful smile as she prayed. The third woman, looking out of place with blonde hair and light skin, praying with “Mamita” to receive Jesus in a language not her own. This moment was a little piece of Heaven on earth.

“Mamita” is on the far right, with her daughter Sandra, and 3 of our kids. This is the day she received Jesus. Update: her doctor says she is no longer dying! She is getting better each day and last time I visited with her, she said she was feeling well enough that she was thinking about getting a boyfriend.

A few weeks after this glorious moment, Sandra wanted me to talk with her niece, Sara*. Sara has two children, is unmarried, and was not making good decisions for her life or her family.  Sara’s mother had had enough of her irresponsibility and was going to have her children taken from her. Just as I did with Jane and Mamita, I sat next to Sara and began to talk about her life, her decisions, and her need for Jesus. She agreed, and prayed with me to receive Jesus. 

She asked me to accompany her to talk to her mom and convince her to give her another chance. I did, and two hours later, her mother, (Laura*), went from raging about her daughter to me, to allowing me to pray with her and her daughter. Laura is still staunchly against Christian beliefs, but she said that if it would help her daughter change, she is not going to stop her from learning more about Jesus. 

I continue to pray for Sandra’s family, that they will ALL experience an encounter with Jesus and will be united in love for Him. The amazing part about Laura is that even though she vehemently disagrees with Christianity, she has allowed me to pray with her twice. The last time I visited her, she told me as I was leaving, 

“Katy, (what everyone calls me here, pronounced “Kah-tee”), I want you to know you are always welcome in my home. And don’t just feel like you can only come with my sister. Come visit me sometime without her, and bring your family.” 

Sandra was there when Laura said this, and told me,

“That is the first time my sister has ever opened up to a Christian. She isn’t just saying this. If she invited you to come to her house, then she really trusts you and wants you to come back.” 

Later that evening, my family arrived home from San Francisco and piled out of the car. The sun had gone down; We had spent our entire day in church, traveling and ministering to people. I was exhausted and looking forward to a good nights’ rest! 

That’s when I noticed the mess. As I began picking up trash and sweeping cracker crumbs from the seats of our car, I began to think about Jane, Mamita, Sara and Laura.

Just like the many crumbs, we are scattering seed on so many hearts and lives, and we are seeing miracles take place!

Our Sunday snacks are messy, and it’s not always easy to spend the day driving out to the little group of believers in the country town. But, I certainly wouldn’t trade this for the world. And the crackers and cream cheese? They are truly a life-saver. In more ways than one.

*Names changed to protect individuals’ privacy.

Joey enjoying his cracker/cream cheese snack in the car.

Heroes of Faith

We met the most extraordinary couple last week. Pastor Antonio, and his wife, Gregoria, stand at just about 5 feet tall. They smile a lot, and their hands are roughened by hard work and sacrificial labors. He is a bricklayer by trade. They met and married when he was 20 and she 15. As a young man, he managed to enter the U.S. and began working, and that was when Christians began to share the Gospel with him.

Pastor Antonio and Gregoria are from two very small villages in the Mountain range of Queretaro state in Mexico. He is from a village called “Jabalí,” and she is from a village called “Florida.” (Not resembling in any way the state of Florida in the U.S.A.!) Their villages are literally built on the sides, ridges, and summits of this arid mountain range.

We met them by “happenstance.” We had been looking for a way to access the villages and people who live in the mountains that surround the valley where we live. No one we knew here had any contacts for us. Our team of volunteers arrived December 27. On January 15, we still had no pastor or contact for the mountain ministry and I had exhausted every lead I knew.

Then, my phone rang, and Pastor Antonio (“Tonio”), was on the other end of the line. He had originally said they were busy the weekend of our dates and couldn’t host us, but he called back to say that we could go ahead and come. He assured me he had a church building we could sleep in, a bathroom (with no running water), and he could even provide us with a gas stove-top to cook meals on!

We set out with our first YWAM team to explore the mountains of Querétaro with my family of seven, 3 Australians, 4 YWAMers from the base in Bocas, Panama, and one Mexican volunteer. I drove my minivan, and Rob drove his big, white truck. His truck was loaded with 5-gallon bottles of water, food, and provisions for the next three days. In addition to food, we had ministry supplies like puppets, speakers, and instruments. Bedding was also an important commodity, and we packed stacks of blankets. The temperatures in the mountains during this time of year dip into the low 30’s at night, and there would be no heating to keep us warm.

This was a camping trip on steroids!

We met the pastor in a town called “Cadereyta” and followed him up the winding pass into the mountains. The paved road gave way to dirt and ruts, and I was glad it was the dry season and the dirt road was not muddy.

I steered my weighted-down van carefully over the rocky, rutted road, and tried to avoid scraping the underside on the rough terrain.

My time playing “MarioKarts” with the kids came in handy during this driving challenge! After a slow, forty-minute drive on the dirt road, we arrived at the village of Jabalí. We were amazed by what we saw. This village is nestled on the side of the mountain, and wherever you stand in the village, you have the ability to see for miles as the valley below the mountains stretches out before you.

Pastor Tonio began to point out to us the villages in the distance, telling us how far it takes to walk, and which ones still have no church. It reminded me of the quote that David Livingstone heard that impacted his life’s work in Africa:

“In the vast plain to the north, I have sometimes seen, in the morning sun, the smoke of a thousand villages, where no missionary has ever been.” -Robert Moffat

As the valley stretched before us, broken up by the occasional village, my heart burned for the people who live so far away from our modern civilization who may have never heard the Gospel, or have gone their entire lives without ever experiencing the tangible love and presence of God.

Our team of YWAM volunteers was incredible! They carried all of our supplies down a winding dirt path to where the church stood. The path was a bit steep, and you had to take care to dodge the sharp cactus needles and animal droppings. We found out later the most common animal to use this path was a herd of wild donkeys that traverse the narrow mountain paths at night!

The little church was built on a flat terrace of land on the side of the mountain. It was tucked up next to a wall of dirt that led upwards, with the other side of the church built on the edge of the terrace before it drops away down the hill. You can stand in front of this church and see for miles into the valley. In the distance, more mountains rise up, layer after layer, representing other villages and people who are even harder to reach.

We stayed there for three days, ministering to the villagers and their children. We shared a bathroom with one toilet, which wasn’t bolted down, so, at one point, a team member accidentally knocked it over while using it! She simply picked it back up, positioned it over the drainage hole, and proceeded to finish. We slept under layers of blankets and struggled in the morning to leave our warm “nests” to dress in the cold morning air.

My favorite part of the week was the first morning we were there. Rob and I sat outside in the early morning mists with Pastor Tonio while he continued telling us his story:

Upon receiving Jesus, he returned to his village, and began telling everyone he knew about Jesus. The villagers were angry; they wanted nothing to do with Jesus or anyone who talked about Him. He began receiving death threats. Six times, people attempted to kill him. Two of the attempts were made by his own family members. Once, when he was preaching in the town square, a man came up to him with his machete drawn and said,

“I’m going to kill you right now. We won’t have any more of this Jesus talk.”

Tonio began to weep as he shared:

“I didn’t feel fear in that moment. I only felt mercy for him. I cried out, ‘Father, forgive him, he doesn’t realize what he’s doing!’’  As he prayed this powerful prayer, following Jesus’ own example, the man was literally thrust backwards onto the ground! Tonio saw no one, and as he watched, the man scrambled up and ran off. God miraculously spared his life numerous times, and he continues to preach in his village and in the ones nearby. Slowly, people began to listen to his message, and began giving their lives to the Lord.

They needed a place to meet, so Pastor Tonio began building a church. They didn’t have enough money to build the entire church, but they decided to start anyway. The first thing that needed to be established was a foundation. Now, that was something they could begin right away, because it didn’t cost any money to dig. The new believers arrived with shovels and pickaxes, and began to excavate a place to lay the foundation of the church. As money came in, they purchased materials. They had to carry, by hand, the construction block, bags of concrete, and even water, up the mountain to the terrace where the church was being built. It took them five years.

Tears moistened my eyes as I realized our team was sleeping, eating, and ministering in a little building whose foundation was dug by hand; whose walls were built, one slow stone at a time, by a small group of believers in a mountain village. Believers who wanted a special place to honor and worship God. Who wanted a building that was not a shrine to the virgin of Guadalupe, or to a dead patron saint. They wanted to worship a living God, whose name is Jesus!

The stray dogs traipse in and out of the building, sniffing about for something to eat. The neighboorhood drunks come and sit in the chairs, and hold their head in their hands as they blink away their drunken stupor. Families wander in, holding their bundled babies, searching for meaning in life. More importantly, Pastor Tonio and his wife are there, talking with people, loving them, praying for them, sharing truth with them.

Until just a few years ago, Pastor Tonio and his wife would walk five hours one way EVERY WEEKEND to minister to their church people. He lives and works in a town about an hour’s drive away. He and his wife and his five children would walk five hours, minister in the church, and walk the five hours back home. They have been faithful to what God has called them for 16 years.

As we further got to know them, we found out that he has a fifth-grade education, and she was only able to study until the third grade. He has another church in a village that is about a 2-hour walk from Jabalí. Sometimes he drives there. Other days, he walks.

Pastor Tonio with some of the children from the villages.

He is still passionate about the communities and people who are unreached. He has invited us to come with him deeper into the mountains in order share the Gospel with them. Pastor Tonio and his wife, Gregoria, and their family, are heroes of the faith. Life hasn’t been easy for them, but they remain faithful to the Lord and to His call.

Hebrews 11:1-2 speaks about a great cloud of witnesses. Those who have gone before us: men and women of faith, who, having passed into glory, are urging us on as we run our race of life. I have always imagined the “greats:” men like Father Abraham; Moses, who divided the Red Sea with his rod; Stephen, who was martyred by stoning.

But, the more I meet people like Tonio and Gregoria, the more I am certain that there are so many who are cheering us on whom we have never heard about. Men and women of great prayer, sacrifice, and love for Jesus who never got to graduate high school, who never owned a car, who never wrote a book. People who poured out their lives, year after year, for the cause of Christ. Who, after witnessing for years, maybe only saw one convert; who, after traveling miles and visiting many, died in poverty and obscurity. Who, through sacrifice and hard work, built the a little church for believers far from modern conveniences. Though they may have been poor, they loved richly. They lived their lives driven by eternity, as this quote states so well:

“We shall have all eternity in which to celebrate our victories, but we have only one swift hour before the sun sets in which to win them.”

They were passionate, reaching just one more life for Jesus; they were faithful, ignoring society’s definition of success; they were genuine, loving even the least of these.

What an amazing place Heaven will be, as we spend eternity meeting such incredible people! As I think about men and women such as these, unnamed heroes who watch our progress through the veil of eternity and cheer us on, I find myself wanting to “run” all the more harder.

Praying for Pastor’s wife, Gregoriana. Such a precious woman!

Little Ones: Big Purpose

I’d like for you to meet Monica. She is a school-teacher in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Her day-job teaching at a Christian school isn’t enough for her. She has a burden for children, and she has decided to do something about it! On Saturdays, instead of enjoying her day off from the noise and chaos of working with children, she hosts a Bible club for the kids in her neighborhood.

Monica: The “Pied Piper” of Bolivia

Monica’s Happy Kids

Our family got to spend a day with her, and we have nicknamed her the “Pied Piper.” She goes around the neighborhood, knocking on doors for one hour, extending invitations for the children to come to Bible Club. Over the course of the hour walk (and about two miles of terrain), she has a group of about 30 children trailing after her, following her to Bible Club. Upon arriving, she teaches them a Bible lesson, sings songs, plays games, and feeds the children a snack.

Monica spends her evenings baking cookies, banana bread, zucchini bread, carrot bread, etc, to feed “her kids,” as she likes to call them. She also makes them “juice:” water, sugar, and whatever fruit she has on hand, blended, with the pulp strained out, all mixed together. Monica is not wealthy, but she radically gives what she has. No one pays her to do this; she supports her little children’s ministry with her personal income. Monica has a passion for children: she ministers to them, and she personally sacrifices in order to share Jesus with them.

People like Monica bring to the forefront God’s heart for our young generations.

It’s so easy to overlook the importance of children’s ministry, or even to rank it as “second place” to adult ministry. 

This brings me to my second introduction: Pastor Bruno. He has been pastoring for over 25 years in the most dangerous neighborhoods of San Salvador, El Salvador. This city has been distinguished as the “death capital of the world” because of gang violence. Pastor Bruno’s church has about 35 people. Of those 35, 25-30 of these church members are children. He has literally pastored a church of children for 25 years. Children make up the largest population of his church for several reasons:

1. Adults are afraid to go where his church is located. It is just too dangerous.

2. The majority of his church attendees are the children of the gang members and prostitutes where he lives.

3. Children love to go to Bruno’s church, because he values them, he teaches them, and he patiently disciples them.

4. All his ministry teams are made up of children: Prayer Team, Praise & Worship Team, Ushers/Greeters, Evangelism Team, etc.  Kids know that when they go to Bruno’s church, he will teach them to lead, and he will hand them a microphone and LET them lead!

Rob and I met with Bruno and his family three weeks ago. We treated their entire family to a pizza party at the Pizza Hut in El Salvador. My kids had to coach their three-year-old grandson on how to play on the indoor playground. He had never been in a place like that, and wasn’t sure what to do.

We ordered too much food, in order to send them home with leftovers. Bruno, his wife, and his four children are modern-day heroes of the faith. Two years ago, gang members surrounded Bruno’s house, threatening to rape his daughters and kill them all. Bruno and his family knelt on the floor in their home that night, placing their lives into Jesus’ hands, and committed to staying and ministering there, no matter what happened. God supernaturally intervened, and they weren’t harmed. In fact, the local gang leader found out what happened, and the person threatening them disappeared.

A visit with Bruno’s family

In the last six months, Bruno’s family has been working in Tonacatepeque (say that three times really fast without stuttering, lol). They drive 1 1/2 hours to hold a children’s program at a church where the church’s own pastor refuses to go because it has become too dangerous. They have had more than 100 children attend their “training,” and have graduated 62 students. These children can “graduate” if they don’t miss one session for 12 weeks, and they can recite 20 Bible passages. Pastor Bruno awards these children with a certificate of completion, a small toy, a children’s devotional, and their very own Bible.

Bruno does all of this by faith. The children he ministers to don’t have money. The churches he visits can’t afford to give him an offering. He has been driving the same beat-up van he had when we met him sixteen years ago.

He is not living for this world’s definition of success or accomplishment.

He is being faithful to Jesus’ entreaty in John 21:15, “[if] you love me… then feed my lambs.” 

In the past six months, our outreach teams have seen more than 600 people pray to commit their lives to Jesus. Over half of these people are children. In a recent study, The Barna Group pointed out that what a person believes by the age of 13 will carry into the rest of their lives. Ministering to children isn’t “mini-ministry,” or a “stepping-stone to REAL ministry.” It has the potential to literally transform entire communities and cultures.

Just the other day, we were readying our family to go do a children’s program. I caught myself thinking, “This is the LAST thing I want to do today!” I had a list a mile long of things to get done, like laundry, prepping for a Bible-school class, translating audio-visuals, and preparing for another children’s ministry on Sunday. To top it all off, I simply wanted a “day-off.” I was immediately convicted when I felt Holy Spirit reply to my attitude:

“But this is what I want to do today.”

Once we arrived at the location, we spent an hour inviting kids. This actually means we spent an hour knocking on doors, waking people up, and inciting all the local dogs into a barking frenzy. People in Panama drink into the night on Fridays, and don’t like to rise much before 10:30 or 11 am on Saturday mornings. We really stirred up the pot knocking on their doors at 9am!

We gathered a crowd of about 35 kids, and then began our program. We had songs, games, dramas, and a Bible lesson. At the end, I was sitting on the ground, coloring in the midst of a group of Panamanian children.

Suddenly, God’s heart for them began to overwhelm me. I had been chatting with a boy and girl, and as they began to describe their home life in matter-of-fact tones, I realized that THIS was the most important thing I would do all week. Today may be the only day that little Carlos would have someone look him in the eye and tell him “Jesus loves you, and has a wonderful plan for your life.” This may be the only time this week that 10 year-old Aurelia will feel safe and not fearful of what an adult may do to her. My heart melted as I took in the sight of chubby, brown hands gripping a crayon for the first time, uncertainty replaced by confidence as we assured him that he was doing a good job.

So many children, all over the world, wake up in the morning and then go to bed later that night without ever being hugged, encouraged, shown affection, or given value. As my legs went numb from sitting on the dirty concrete, I realized that this was a holy mission. I was a living extension of the Father’s heart. Who will love His children? Who will kneel in the dirt and show them value? Who will give of themselves and embrace the chaos and joy of spending time with Father’s little ones? Who will feed His lambs?

Children aren’t an afterthought to God. They are His first passion.

My prayer is that my life would reflect this truth.

As we left the children’s program that day, we were mobbed by the children hugging us goodbye. Aurelia shyly told me, “I can’t wait for you to come back.” As I hugged her, fervently praying for her future safety, I felt Father God’s love for her break my heart.

I can’t wait to go back, either.

Jesus loves the little children!

Furlough in Missouri

My Large (but beautiful) Family

For the past two weeks, I’ve been driving my minivan around town and faithfully performing the following duties:

• Dr. Appointments
• Dental Visits (all 5 kids need their teeth cleaned and ISAAC has cavities….)
• Orthodontic appointments (Isaac again)
• New Driver’s license
• Homeschooling
• Walmart (to buy a fresh supply of underwear and socks for the next 9 months…)
• Laundry
• Laundry
• Laundry

 

Actually, looking at the final three items, I’ve been ignoring some of the above mentioned duties…oops.

This list can probably be found in every suburban mother’s home, complete with children and the minivan with the sticky seats. Unfortunately, my official job description is not “stay-at-home Missouri Mom,” but “international missionary mom home on furlough.” The key word in both descriptions is “Mom,” and there’s no escaping the fact that motherhood trumps fancy job descriptions and reduces you to that lady who never has enough hours in her day….

Our furlough home has been interesting. I had this secret wish list of things to do upon arriving in Missouri:

• Visit family
• Hang out with friends (show them I’m learning to drink coffee…. Actually, I don’t think “official” coffee drinkers consider a “Latte” to be true coffee, but I’m breaking a non-coffee habit of 36 years…)
• Indulge in the following hard-to-find foods in Latin America:
  • DR. PEPPER
  • Steaks cooked Medium Rare with no fear of food poisoning
  • Sour Cream. On everything… Except the Lattes.
  • American Candy, especially Reese’s Pieces.
• Catch up on some needed rest
• Take long soaks in the bathtub with very hot water
• And, hey, maybe asking too much, but it’d be nice to see some snow. (Just the pretty kind that falls and doesn’t stick or make the roads dangerous.)

 

My actual time home has been much, much busier. Our crazy schedule has made the above list a bit challenging to accomplish. On the bright side, my list looks like a solid plan for “How to Gain Weight Effortlessly,” so it’s probably for the best.

To give you a little idea of what a five-week furlough can look like, in the last 5 weeks, we:

• Drove 2,500 miles (not counting Rob’s 1,500 mile drive to Juarez, Mexico, & back)
• Changed time zones 3 times (4 if you count going onto daylight savings time)
• Traveled through the states of California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri
• Visited 6 different churches and one para-church ministry
• Went to 10 office appointments
• celebrated 3 birthdays and an adoption
• Unpacked/Re-packed/Unpacked (again!) a total of 8 suitcases
• recorded a radio/podcast interview (here’s my plug for NextGen Worship, you should take a listen sometime)

 

I don’t know if you’ve picked up on the trend yet, but I’m become very proficient at making lists. (Maybe I should’ve used the word obsessive instead of proficient…?)

Where am I heading with all of this?

Please know, first of all, I’m really not complaining. It’s so great to see our dear friends, family and supporters!

I’m blogging about this because it’s such a contrast of roles:

One minute, I’m sharing my great passion for the beautiful people in Mexico and Panama, and the next moment I’m sitting in the car singing “On the Road Again” with the kids. The slide shows, highlight videos, and RKMissions T-shirts morph into another round of suitcases, our trusty GPS unit, and another pile of laundry.

Hold on a sec. I WILL complain about that! Do any of you ever feel like that pile of laundry should really be called “Mt. NEVEREST?” As in, it will NEVER get done, EVER(est)? I have been stepping around it, my kind husband has been stepping over it, and my 5 children just run over the top of it. What’s with that anyway? I know it wouldn’t look as cute as the pink Energizer bunny marching around and around and never stopping, but, seriously, my laundry pile WILL EXIST into Infinity and Beyond!!!

Which brings me to another pile that seems to keep growing: the un-matched sock pile. Every few months, I throw away a gallon-bucket-sized pile of socks that have no mates. Only to turn around and find the “Un-matched” pile has appeared again, daring me to believe the other sock will turn up as I do the laundry.

No matter where I go, what I do, or how much I check items off my to-do list, the laundry never goes away. It patiently sits there, awaiting my next energy spurt.

But, for all my complaining, I’m still having the time of my life. (With a little less sleep than originally hoped…)

Nothing replaces our excitement to visit with our families. Nothing compares to seeing people weep as we share about loving the Ngobe Indians in Panama. Nothing erases the effects of hearing our loved ones pray for us and encourage us.

Not even the laundry pile can steal the simple joys of enjoying the fickle Missouri weather, talking with friends, and laughing with family.

We are blessed. We are loved. And whether I can see it or not, we are advancing the Kingdom,

…..one dirty sock at a time.

CLEAN Laundry!  (Special thanks to Matt Nickel for the Photo Bomb.)