Burning Furnace of Charity

So, just about one hour after I wrote the last post ("Dreaming of Tomorrow..."), I went to pick up Cristal for her next doctor's appointment. I found her, along with one of the other pregnant girls, just outside of BT with her crack pipe in hand, just about to smoke. She informed me that she didn't want to go to the doctor, and would I please leave her alone. I told her it was way too late for all of that, and that we should just go to the doctor because it would only take a couple of hours. This was clearly not what she wanted to do, so I reminded her that she is the only one her baby has, so she should take of herself and her baby. Well, that really set her off and she stormed her way back to her bar.

So, there I was, standing outside of BT having been rebuked by a pregnant prostitute, unsure of what I should do next. I got in the car and decided to go in after her. Was this inspired by the Holy Spirit? I have absolutely no idea because I didn't even stop to pray about it (reason #1 why I shouldn't be a missionary).

I drove in past the police/guard station, where they always smile & wave at me and undoubtedly wonder what in the world I'm doing there. I drove around the corner, heart slightly pounding, and parked in front of the crack bar where Cristal lives. I walked inside to find her and her pregnant buddy sitting at a table. I walked over and she began yelling at me. "I know I'm the only one my baby has, so stop telling me!" I, very calmly, tried to tell her that I wasn't there to tell her that again. But I was only calm the first time I said it because she kept putting her hands over her ears (like a toddler) and yelling at me.

And then it happened. I don't know what "it" was, but it happened. I got really upset. And I started crying right there in a crack bar! (reason #2 why I shouldn't be a missionary.)

Her pregnant friend said to me, "why do you only help the pregnant girls?"

And I started in, with a raised voice, with, "All I have ever tried to do is be your friend! Why won't you just let me be your friend? And whoever is telling you that I only help the pregnant girls is LYING to you! Go ask anyone in this place - All I want is to be your friend and help you so you can be a mom to your baby! You think I want to be a mom? Well, I don't! I just want to be your friend!"

And after I had yelled and cried at two pregnant prostitutes in a crack bar (reasons #3-5 why I shouldn't be a missionary), we all walked away.

As I stepped outside to get in my vehicle, I saw a girl we call "La Poli" (short for la politica, "the politician" because she is shakin' hands & kissin' babies, even when she is strung out on all sorts of drugs). La Poli was standing there in her grandma-ish house coat and slippers, just waiting to give me a big ol' hug with her skinny little arms. As she hugged me, I tried to act like I hadn't been crying. She whispered, "May God give you patience." And I started crying again. She had no idea what had just happened, but it didn't matter because God sent her to me in that moment. Then she began to sing, "God is here in this place. It is so beautiful that he's here. He promises to be wherever 2 or 3 are. God is here in this place." She blew me kisses while I cried, then walked away.

I drove straight to the land, and cried and prayed and wondered if I was in the right place and should I just pack up and go home now, etc, etc. I cried for a long time.

Later that afternoon, I went to the lawyer's office, hoping to sign papers and be an official land owner in Mexico. However, in accordance with the day's activities, that did not happen. In fact, when we got there, the owner decided to raise the price of the land a bit. And the attorney informed me that we still have to wait on a few things, so I'm not totally sure of how much longer it will all take. (I have to call today to re-negotiate the price on the land.) By the time that day was over, I was ready to go to sleep.

And it all boils down to this: I just know in my gut at the end of the day that I find Jesus in BT. I don't always like it, but He strangely draws me to Himself in those distressing disguises of His - in Cristal, Nora, La Poli, all of them. Where else could I go? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, truthfully.

Something tells me that won't be the last time I cry and yell inside those walls. I have to hope that one day, I'll see the promise of God's word be fulfilled: those who sow in tears, will reap with shouts of joy.

Lots of love from the most unlikely missionary,
Kelly