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NEW WIDOW

An older man in our church died a few weeks ago.  His name was Nacho and he was 79 years old.  After a week of pneumonia, a heart attack stopped his suffering.  His wife Cande, (pronounced Cahn-day) has attended our church for the majority of her adult life, but Nacho only became a Christian about four years ago… the first year we came to Porvenir.  He will be missed as a stable, supportive member of our church.  Cande told our pastor’s wife what a loving husband Nacho had always been, always looking out for her and showing love by bringing her a single rose on every birthday, Mother’s Day, and anniversary for countless years.  Though we didn’t know him well, three of our former students have stayed in their home. His funeral was in the middle of the most enormous rainstorm that Porvenir had seen in years.  There were many friends there to greet and console Cande, but I’m sure the night is all a blur in her mind.  She came to church a week later and her eyes carried a heavy sorrow; dark circles spoke volumes as we prayed over her and witnessed an unbroken desire in her heart to still sing and worship the God of comfort and love.

Cande is now living alone.  She has plenty of neighbors and a few close friends, but she’s still living alone.  I have no concept of what that feels like; I went straight from college to marriage, and I’m far from 79.  I’ve been thinking about how our family can be the hands and feet of Christ to Cande in the weeks and months ahead.  James 1:27 reminds us to “…look after orphans and widows in their distress….”  We are surrounded by orphans in Mexico, and they’re pretty easy to reach out to even if you don’t speak the language; all you need is a soccer ball and some energy.  But reaching out to widows seems slightly harder to me because my Spanish is limited.  And so I’ll resort to making cookies with Micah.  It doesn’t seem like enough, but then I remember how many people in mourning have appreciated the quiet friends who just sit and listen, and been turned off by endless chatter of those who “don’t know what to say.”  How ironic that because of a language barrier we might be just what she needs… quiet friends who don’t have much to say.

JUGGLE OR BATTLE
Fresh starts!  Original ideas!  Excellent intentions!  Renewed inspiration!  Or not.  For numerous people the word ‘resolutions’ conveys feelings of, “Why bother?” or “It didn’t work last year,” or my personal experience, “Tomorrow… yeah, definitely tomorrow.”  Whether you own the excuse book or actually stick to your resolutions, let me be the first to admit that since starting Ventana I’ve often wondered if I’m ever going to get it together.  Between juggling marriage, motherhood, Spanish, teaching, mentoring, homeschooling, writing, and editing, I often feel spread too thin.  Micah’s impromptu muddy picture conveys what’s going on in my head when piles are taking over my home, niños aren’t obeying, and ministry isn’t as blissful as it appears to be.  And then I open an email that reminds me of friends who are battling terminal illnesses. What would they give to switch places with me and only have to juggle instead of battle?

I haven’t made a resolution since about 1997, but this year I desire to try and live up to what we ask prospective students to do through our advertising tag line, “Get outside your zip code.”  I definitely did that a few years ago, but how can it apply to me now?  January 1st finds me taping a 3×5 card on my bathroom mirror that reads, “Get outside yourself.”  Whenever I’m stepping on another superhero, solving a staff or student problem, wiping up another spill, fighting writer’s block, carving mud out of another sole, fetching another jug of water, and answering the same question from 30 seconds ago, I pray that 2009 will bring more moments of remembering to be outward-focused instead of circumstance-driven.  Kudos to John Piper for smacking me between the eyes with those four poignant words, “It’s not about you.” 
Though I’m usually juggling things that I think make life challenging, I resolve to consider friends who are battling just to live.  And so I dedicate this short anecdote to Sharri, one of my greatest encouragers, and a woman who oozes outward-focused living.  Her life, and her battle, is a compelling reminder to get outside myself. 

Fight on, friend, for you are stronger than you think.  The rest of us already know. 

Challenged Anew,
Carrie