It’s been a week since I’ve arrived home (a day late!) and, due to working every day since, I have been a little lazy with this blog. My sincere apologies for those who search the Internet for entertainment and were left wanting after visiting my page. It’s the holidays. Go make a snow angel. Or a mud angel if you’re in Matamoros…eww. Nevermind.
I must make another confession before I carry on: my usual daily devotions have been put on hold since it’s been sleep, work, sleep, work, how can I help you, we don’t carry children’s shoes, I’m sorry miss, we can’t do that, no sir, we don’t have that, would you like that on your Macy’s card, receipt in the bag, yadda yadda yadda. This week things will hopefully be back to normal.
So without condoning my busy-ness/laziness, I here make my disclaimer. If this blog seems like a patchwork quilt of sorts, it’s because I haven’t had organized thought in about a week. Isn’t it supposed to be that way in Mexico instead? Lo que sea.
Thank the risen Lord Rubie and I got to chat on Saturday (fyi: Rubie is one of my major sisters in Christ, without whom I couldn’t have made the decision to go on this mission). She and I debriefed (sorry Matamoros folks, I know you love that word) each other on what’s going down with each other’s trips, and during our debriefing I was reconfirmed once again by our patient Lord that he wants me no other place than Matamoros. Not Peru, not Costa Rica, not the Dominican Republic, not Nantucket, not my mom’s basement.
As Rubie was telling me about some of her exciting trips and some of the activities she was doing, I’ll admit I was envious of her opportunity to rebuild houses that were destroyed by earthquakes. But as she described the modus operandi of her mission trip, I realized I liked the way things were organized where I was. I further realized how much I was enamored by Mexico when I began to tell her about what we were doing down there, the people I was ministering with, the friendships, and the food (one of the best parts, of course).
What were some of these things, to be specific? To recap, you’ve all read about Nancy (who, by the way, gave me a ceramic Christmas decoration before I left…that girl makes me want to cry!) and Manuel (homeless dude, may Jesus protect him). Without checking on former blogs, I’m sure I’ve mentioned Adolfo and Laura (the family with the alcohol issue that is slowly but surely improving) and Erica (the lady who had a dream about Jesus that told her to come to our church).
It would discredit the several amazing women I have met in the prison as well, believers and non-believers alike, not to mention them as well. I’m already missing Marta (a lady who has visions when she prays and is the mother of an adorable 9-month-old), Luisa (a newly incarcerated woman the size of my thumb with a love for God and a servant heart), Flor (she just got released, yay!), and Gabby (the nickname says it all).
The people of Matamoros can’t really be described in one word. On the dark side, there is a spirit of greed. People are constantly asking you for spare change. In the prisons, there is always one lady I can count on to ask me for a Coke. That’s all she wants. There is alcoholism that rips apart families and makes the poor even more destitute. There is rampant teen pregnancy (15 or 16 is a common marrying age) and spousal abuse (Erica herself was a former victim), along with drug problems and animal neglect (the dogs down here are disgusting). The worst vice of a lot of the people, in my opinion, is Santa Muerte.
Santa Muerte is an idol, essentially. People have this idea (obviously they haven’t read Genesis) that God created man and death (like a person, the grim reaper) simultaneously instead of death as a fair consequence for man’s sin and choice to separate himself from God, instead of eternal life (obviously the reason for which we need Jesus). Death is the person to whom they petition their deepest desires. And in doing so, they make a pact with dark forces. You don’t need to know anything about it to be creeped out…their skeleton figurine with the sithe that they wear is enough to chill you. Their motto is “El me guia, ella me cuida.” In other words, God guides, but Saint Death really is the one who answers prayers.
The sad part about this whole idea is that the people of Matamoros have no idea how much God loves them and wants to care for them. They think the function of God should be this Santa Claus figure who gives you what you want, and since God is just and not this big ethereal dude that spoils you, they default to this man-created idea that you can pray to Saint Death. The mentality here is that God is just some big dictator in the sky and Death is his mercenary and his prayer granter. Somewhere in there they manage to fit in the idea that Jesus died for our sins, but they miss the whole point that Jesus wants a relationship with us. Like father and child. These people run around like they’re fatherless.
Forgive me for being so grim. I would not have mentioned this if there weren’t a brightside to Matamoros.
The hope that I see in this town, specifically in my neighborhood, is that there are many hearts that are broken before God. I could laundry list many of the destitute (financially and otherwise) people that, before and during my stay there, have realized how much they need God, and how much God really does want us to ask for miracles. Some of the most humble people I have met go to our church. Erica is one of them, Nancy another.
There are countless families I see whose pasts (and present) would make you feel both grateful and spoiled. These people struggle with finances, with personal issues, and with unfortunate circumstances, but in that they have hope that their struggles are something to take comfort in. They have Jesus. And so many of them are in need of an affirmation to that effect. Being an encouragement to these people is a job I would never turn down, and I’m glad I’ve been sent to do it. Hopefully I will be able to reach those deep in the darkness as well.
There’s a prisoner from the men’s side who works on the women’s side named Faustino who is one such individual. He believes in Santa Muerte, but you can tell there’s something in him that wants more. I’m praying (could you all pray, too?) that I can get a moment to talk to him more about it, since he approached Lauren and I out of the blue with specific questions about that.
My last section of this elongated blog is a shout-out of sorts to my fellow FYMers at home: keep up the good work, guys. Each of you have a light in you that cannot be snuffed out, and you all mean a lot to me. I am looking forward to delving deeper with you all and building and strengthening more friendships. There are some of you whose hearts I can actually see being changed by Christ and it’s very encouraging to me. I’m glad I’m down there with you all, and I’m looking forward to seeing you in January!
To all who read this blog: I hope your Christmas is joyful and full of the true spirit of Christmas. He is the reason for the season! I love you all very much. Thanks for being a part of my life.
