So I'm posting about day 4 and 5 today, (Friday, which is technically day 6) because the last two days have been a legitimate Godsend.
There was a definite, definable presence with us yesterday, and the day before was just awesome in more ways than I can explain with text on a screen. You really had to be here to experience the full glory of what God's doing in Mexico, but I'll do my best to describe it.
Day Four (Wednesday) began just like any other day; I was late getting down for Prayer, but I managed to catch the tail end of it, ate my breakfast, and went to the Job site. Andrea and Enrique were waiting for me, and through stinted conversation, they were excited to see the entire team.
I continued drywalling and started Spackling. An entire room, which would the kids' room, was spackled by yours truly. I was proud of my work, and though I did make a few mistakes, they were mistakes that added personality to the home, I felt.
Andrea taught me two new games, and I taught her Rock-Paper-Scissors. We played them for more than I usually played for, but she just lit up every time she won. Our site was still dusty, grimy, and all-around gross, but the games (and Bombeis, the smallest dog, kept hugging my leg - wrapping his paws around my knee and staring up at me) kept my spirits high. Our house was nearly finished (only painting to go!) when I left that day.
The afternoon consisted of a hike up a large hill, where the view was... breathtaking. You're standing above Ensenada, with rolling hills and valleys, greens, blues, and browns all mixed together in an artistic and amazing combination. In the distance, the sun was setting behind the large, tinged mountain range.
Breathtaking. If I were an artist in that moment, Ensenada would be my subject. Anyone who looks at it and isn't made a believer has a very narrow mind.
Finally, at the fire, feeling revved up and excited on the mid-week day, I shared my testimony with the fire. What I said is a little too personal for this blog, but if you ask me, I'll be willing to share it with you.
I fell asleep content, centered, for the first time in the week.
And then the puking started.
I woke up with a start at 1:30 AM, looking down to witness Peter, one of my fellow Ensenada mates, dry retching. A horrible sound. There was shuffling, panicked whispers, someone proclaiming that they'd get soap and water, and the splat of vomit hitting the floor.
Funny, that we slept through dog barks and yelling in Spanish, police sirens and car horns, rocks hitting buildings and backfires, but as soon as someone makes a sound resembling puking, we all bolt awake with eyes wide open.
Nathan, the fellow Canadian, was down for the count as well. He had one too many Tacos and expired from heat exhaustion.
The day got worse from there. I was cajoled into painting a giant, bright orange church, standing on a rickety ladder with an extended roller and a paintbrush. It was demanding, exhausting work, and the worst part of it was that we didn't finish the job. The church looked awful when we left.
I got onto the Job site, played with the kids for a bit, and then it was off to the Boy's home. We presented our Drimes, but we didn't really get to play Soccer with them because we (the Canadians) were late, due to mis-directions, and the teams were already full. I left feeling disheartened, and weary. Was this the first bad day of the week? Was this going to be the moment that broke the week for me?
God said no.
Nathan got up that afternoon and went with us to a soccer match against the local Mexican players. It was a lot of fun, and we all played an amazing game (3-1 Mexico. We scored a goal, though, so we were happy). After the game, a man from New Jersey, Glen, brought five more people to the lord through prayer. Watching him work was glorious.
When we returned, Peter had recovered. I won at six games of Spit. And I fell asleep with the knowledge that God does answer prayers, and He will show you the highest mountains after the lowest valley.
All in all, it turned out to be the best day so far. And I'm very grateful that I don't have a day to point to when someone asks, "What didn't you like on your trip?"
Gotta Jet, more tomorrow.
-Chicago Ted
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