Archive for July, 2009

Sprints and marathons

Monday, July 27th, 2009

I was once a runner. I loved the feeling of finishing a race. I never much cared that I wasn’t first, and even when I was in the best shape of my life I knew my body type wasn’t one that would win races. But I was a finisher, and that for me was always an accomplishment worth celebrating.

From my experience, there are two categories of runs: sprints and marathons. OK, technically a marathon is a set race of 42 km. But in my mind, there are the short races and the long hauls. And you run the races very differently depending on the length.

Sprints are all-out, pump the legs and arms as fast as you can, pound the feet against the track, end goal in sight type of deals. You basically go like stink until you reach the finish.

Marathon length races are run much differently. They require persistence and an ability to push through a more aching pain as you consistently pound the pavement. Mentally your focus needs to be on the end goal though you cannot see it for miles in between you and the finish line. Pacing is important, and having a strong support team providing water, food, encouragement and arms to fall into at the end of the race are crucial.

Our entire Mexico trip we were with a team from Coquitlam Alliance Church (CAC) and as we worked with them, I really saw the difference between a sprint and a marathon when it comes to a short term trip. The people on this trip worked like stink, hiking and digging and dry-walling and pipe laying and concrete making and running VBS and encouraging and praying and driving – lots of driving – for two weeks straight.

And we pretty much followed along the team schedule set up for the CAC group. For 14 of the 15 days we ran the rapid pace that is a short term missions sprint: limited time, much to do, many places to get to in such a short time that every hour counts.

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Feeding the hungry

Friday, July 17th, 2009

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Worlds apart

Sunday, July 12th, 2009

I’m having a difficult time downloading in my mind what I saw in Guacaivo, the tiny village deep in the Copper Canyon. There was a lot to take in, and it was hard to fathom a place of such beauty and such harshness all in one spot. The Taramaharan people that we came to see and help have been living in this canyon, in poverty and fear, for hundreds of years.

The Tarahamarans are the indigenous people of Mexico. And they are slowly going extinct. There’s not enough food around most of the time and people literally starve to death in the craggy rocks.

Pastor Tomas is trying to change that. He was called to reach out to the people in the most inaccessible places of this mighty canyon, seven times larger than the Colorado’s Grand Canyon. He brings physical support like food and clothing to reach them spiritually with the Gospel of Christ.

We came to help at the orphanage and school that Pastor Tomas, Brenda and the missions team started.

While there, we were fortunate enough to witness a food and clothing distribution day. The plan was to start the distribution part way through the day, so we spent the morning working on a fish pond above the orphanage Pastor Tomas had started.

As we dug and cleared and forced rocks out of their earthy graves, groups of brightly dressed Tarahumaran women and cowboy-styled men would all of a sudden appear out of rocks across the small deep valley, on the steep mountainside.

They would make quick work of the steep switchbacks, traversing back and forth until they reached the roadside then downhill to the orphanage. It was a beautiful sight to see – these lost people coming to a Christian organization to have their basic needs met.

They were there to gather food supplies that would apparently last them a month. The Coquitlam Alliance team had bought and put together food bags that included flour, sugar, cornmeal, tins of meat and jalapenos and lard, matches and cookies, salt and coffee. They brought cloth shopping bags from grocery stores back home and by the time the supplies were put in the bags were almost to the top.

It was hard to imagine these families depended so much on these supplies. The night before the food distribution, Pastor Tomas told us that many of the people would be very scared to come as they are not accustomed to outsiders and have a fear of strangers brought about from the time of the Spanish conquistadors. But because they need the food so badly, they come.

Pastor Tomas’ team and the CAC group also gave away cowboy hats, toys, cloth, shoes, and clothing to the men, women and kids who came.

It’s been a few days now since we did the distribution and hiked out of the canyon. It’s hard to match in my mind that the Tarahamaran world and my world are one and the same.

Some Tarahamarans still live in caves. I could live in an expansive house. Tarahamarans live off of roots and some fruit when they’re lucky. I live off of much to much food in variety and abundance fit for a king. They wear the same clothes for days and days on end, and are fortunate if they have shoes and a winter coat for the freezing winters.  I can’t even fit all my clothes in my dresser anymore. They have a roaming pastor come in once a month or so to preach God’s Word. I have church, Bible Studies, a Bible and the ability to read it, hundreds of study books, internet sites, podcasts, radio stations and more to seek and know my Saviour more.

How do you move on in life when so much seems so out of balance? It makes me sad, and frustrated, and longing to do more than write a few stories and hand out a couple bags of food. Yet there is hope there. I have seen the hope in Sandra’s eyes, in Alfredo’s words, in the stories told by Pastor Tomas and Brenda, and I will share those with you soon. But for now, think of the Tarahamarans next time you turn on a light, flush a toilet, read your Bible, go to church and sleep in your soft bed. Think of them, and pray that Pastor Tomas will continue to have the strength and support needed to reach these lost peoples of the canyon.

In to the canyon

Friday, July 10th, 2009

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We’re alive

Tuesday, July 7th, 2009

Well, faithful readers, we survived.

I know you were worried. I sure was. But through Christ’s strength, not my own, I made it both in and out of the Copper Canyon. Thank you all for your prayers, without them I fear I would be sitting in the canyon still. But let me tell you, we would do it again to see what we saw, experience what we experienced, and hear the few but powerful stories we heard.

I’m looking forward to writing about our time in the canyon. But for now, I want to share with you about the hike because it emphasizes the true length teams go to in order to help out in the neediest of places.

The hike to Guacaivo descends 4,100 feet into the canyon bottom, then back up the other side for 1,500 feet. It is a long, steep switchback path. It took me four knee-bending, body-sweating, slow-going hours to get down the side of the mountain. At the bottom of the canyon there was a wide river to cross, which we did in a suspended cable car over the river. That, I gotta say, wasn’t Justin’s favourite moment of the trip being so high above the water in a weeny metal frame hung from a rusty looking cable.

We got across the river in one of the last carts to cross and the team started up again right away. Time was not on our side as night was set to fall within a couple hours. We were told that going at a good clip, it would probably take an hour and a half to reach the top which meant I was aiming for about two hours. So we hauled it straight up the mountainside, following and crossing the creek again and again as we made our way up.

An hour and a half up from the river and we were at the orphanage. Praise God! We were absolutely thrilled to make it to Guacaivo from the top of the canyon in five and a half hours, though I was exhausted from the intense physical day.

We saw miracles with the weather and with the circumstances and I praise God for all of it. It was certainly through God’s faithfulness, His strength, that we made it in and out of the canyon. It was as though God took away every possibility that I would depend on my own strength to make to the orphanage in Guacaivo and then back out again four days later.

And in spite of the long day to make it to Guacaivo, still in the evening we were all able to sing a rousing round of ‘Oh Canada’ for our country’s 142nd birthday.