The Time of my LIFE (Leg 2)

My two new best phrases "cuanto cuesta?" and “Puede hablar mas despacio por favor”.
How much does it cost? And, Can you speak more slowly please? Will get you a long ways as long as you have some more Spanish in your bag (bolsa). The rest I butcher pretty badly with no room for bragging left over, but it gets done.

I learned a universal truth on this leg of my journey. If you suddenly find yourself without any available assistance, you will be amazed at how well you can get by and how much life you will find along the way.

Without a ride or any assistance to get me to the bus station, I plunged out into the semi-controlled madness that is Mexico City, the largest metropolitan area in the Americas and the third largest agglomeration(huh) in the world.

Ah!, this is living! Did I say living? Yes I did! If you have not stretched yourself out into something foreign or ventured into the unknown, then you have not experienced life in its fullest. Guided tours are nice, but landing in the unknown with no available help gives you something fresh coursing through your system that you can’t buy on a street corner or in a pharmacy. You can’t watch it on TV, play it on a video game or ride it at Disneyland. It is not some momentary rush or buzz from too much coffee. It’s not that feeling in the base of our spine we get when we think we are going to die a sudden tragic death. It is the real life that Jesus talked about. Out of our heart flow the issues of life.

When we stretch out into the unknown, where we can’t control the outcome or bail out anytime we want, with no exit stage left or parachute, some too long unused part of our heart starts to whir and click and spring to life.

This same part of our heart stopped functioning long ago from disuse, much like our appendix did, when it once protected us from unclean food, the wild part of our heart has gone into hibernation from a too safe world that no longer sees a need for adventurers or heroes, except on a movie screen.

I was indeed fortunate to feel my heart come alive with the same vigor that was very much alive when men sailed the seas in large wooden boats and climbed the rigging to adjust the sails in the middle of an unknown and raging sea. Men’s hearts were big then, hearts that took them across barren uncharted lands and seas, conquered cities and gave it’s life in the face of overwhelming odds. I was blessed and fortunate to just have a taste of that and hear a little whir as my heart spun to life.

That’s my opinion anyway and I am sticking to it. You know what they say about opinions don’t you? They are like armpits, everybody has got at least two and they all stink, ha-ha.

Ah! Real life smells like smog, sounds like not one person speaking English and I am plop down in the middle of it without a life preserver, no 911 no guide just me and Jesus. This is living!

There was no more tiredness even after the red Bull had worn off.

Fourth Missionary Journey to Mexico

First leg, just getting there…..
Perhaps, Mexico is not the destination that may come to mind when missionaries are thought of, but surely missionaries are needed in Mexico as well as the United States, all nations as Jesus said.

Almost twenty years ago Mexico had taken up residence in my heart and to the depth of my bowels or bosom in the biblical sense. Unexplainable in the language of men, my desire for Mexico has been much like a lust, albeit a much more healthy dose.

This fourth trip was unique in the fact that I spent the first week visiting one of my oldest daughters, Teri, her husband Andres and their four children, two of whom I had not met before this trip. That week also turned into a missionary journey, for I was invited to speak at two different churches in the little “pueblito” of Santa Rosa, where my daughter lives. That one week visit alone gave me enough experiences and material to spend the next year writing.

I will try and do the trip and the experience justice, and I will try not to bore you to tears with the minutiae of daily events. I love minutiae, but I am pretty sure that not all people share my love of the minor details of life’s experience.

The flight into Mexico city via Houston was uneventful and without fanfare, without dogs, customs agents or soldiers disturbing my burnt out brain that was trying to squeeze itself out through my bulging bloodshot eyes. I was pushed out some big doors by some unseen force I have yet to define, and I began my wandering back and forth in my sub-catatonic state with a cardboard sign that read “Templo de Alabanza”, Spanish for Praise Chapel, desperately hoping that my ride would see it.
They didn't and so I went in search of the nearest Starbucks or a store that had "Sugar Free Red Bull". Red Bull won.
My two new best phrases "cuanto cuesta?" and “Puede hablar mas despacio por favor”.