my church has been going to Juarez for nearly 10 years teaming up with "casitas del ray" and other groups to help build homes, soup kitchens, have Bible school for the kids, and just love and serve the people of this violence-stricken city.
i got the chance to go 3 years ago and again the following year. Of course, as the rest of the group does year, after year, i fell in love with the hospitable, gracious people of the city. the children melted my heart and constantly wanted to hold hands, skip, and play--3 of my favorite activities! despite all the fun and joy, the violence there was very tense at the time. There is a drug war going on between the cartel of Juarez and the government. And even in our short time there, several murders occurred, we encountered the military right at our front door, and upon returning to the states we learned that our church was just 1.5 miles away from the location of dozens of raped and murdered women. Juarez is called the most dangerous city in the world by many sources.
wowza, right? I'm not going to lie, i had a few nightmares while i was there, but we constantly prayed and God was with us every step of the way to make sure we didn't let the fear affect loving and serving.
this year, my church will not go to Juarez as we are doing a local mission project, but just as the bumper stickers of many members say-- Juarez is in our hearts. Always. a few minutes ago, i "stumbled" upon this site of photographs of the latest violence. Tears welled up in my eyes as i thought of the many people i love there that have to deal with this on a daily basis. I wish I had the answer to all this, but all i can do is pray, and ask you to as well! Warning: before clicking on "site" please know the pictures are very graphic. but also very real.
in honor of those in Juarez, and of the woman who this story is about--here is a note i wrote about my time there in 2008::
I've had a lot of good hugs in my life, but 3 days ago, I received the best hug ever on a sandy street in Juarez, Mexico during my mission trip.
I know what you're thinking, how could I, a person who loves hugs and gives them out so often, possibly pick one out like this and call it the best? But read on and maybe you'll understand...
Our group went to Mexico to build a soup kitchen. A soup kitchen that had been prayed about for an entire year by an awesome preacher name Julio and his community. By Thursday, we had went extreme home makeover on that cement slab and constructed a cute little building were 45 hungry kids would be fed each day. We decorated it with bible verses and pictures too. The room's bright yellow walls would warm anybody's heart, seriously.
So after the building was constructed we had a dedication. Nearly 200 children showed up by the end of the night!! Along with plenty of adults. It was a the main event fo sho.
Shortly after the 2 hour preaching/singing/and other festivities we fed everyone hot dogs. Next was the toy give away. As this was coming to an end I was approached by an elderly lady. Kayla and I had passed her in the street from a distance a couple days before and she had that same familiar grin on her face this evening. As she approached me I could see her tanned, wrinkled cheeks. She put her hand out and was saying "Gracias" (thank you) in the most genuine tone I'd heard all week. Of course, I bypassed the hand and threw my arms around her for what I thought would be a brief, normal hug.
I was very wrong.
What started out as a wimpy hug turned into a full fledge grasp. She meant it. And as she spoke throughout the 3 minute intense embrace, I knew few words. I understood all the children, God, and thank you. Those phrases were repeated often. And somehow...standing there with sweat on my shirt and sand all over me, hanging on to a women who speaks a totally different language than myself...I could feel her thankfulness.
Yes. Feel it.
No one clings like that and speaks those words of thanksgiving without truly meaning it. And as we stand there arm in arm, I literally got goosebumps. And shortly before we released from our embrace, I looked down into her worn out eyes and saw tears. Tears of happiness. Tears from a lady who truly cared about all those little children running around. Tears from a lady who knew where the building came from...not from a group of 20 Americans, but from God. He made it happen. He just used us to help show His love.
And in that moment, it was all so clear.
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