Resolved.

New Years is always kind of rough on me, because it’s the time of year that I chose to evaluate myself and my performance in life-and I always seem to come up short. I don’t know how it works if you’re not crazy, but for me New Years entails retrospection, revisitation of unmet goals, and the determination to do better next year. It’s really not all that inspiring, because even in when I improve, even when I know I’ve done better, there’s always some goal that’s left unmet, something that I’m still not doing perfectly (because perfection is completely rational and attainable goal, right?) which causes me to tailspin and crank out a list of even more ridiculous and unattainable goals for the next year. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I don’t want to do that to myself this year.

Let’s face it, we all know where we’re lacking. I can list my faults off to you without blinking, because I am fully aware that I am a crazy mess of confusion and apathy. I don’t care enough about other people. I don’t spend enough time with my children. I don’t spend enough time with God. I read too much fiction. My brain is going to atophy from lack of use, and I don’t exercise enough. I spend far too much of my time thinking about clothing and food and when the next time I get to sleep in will be (the answer is never; I’ve learned this the hard way).

This is the short list, mind you, not the extended version.

Frankly, I can’t even remember my new year’s resolutions from last year, and I’m keeping this way. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to check to know that I didn’t keep them. I can just tell you right here and now: I probably did not even do half of them, because the list comprised of things like “Exercise every day (never gonna happen),” “Learn Latin (because dead languages are so helpful to know)” and “Find a boy you don’t hate to go out with (unlikely).”

If I were truly enlightened, if this blog had a really good point, I would tell you that I’m not even going to put together a list of resolutions this year, that I’m just going to improve myself in an organic, unhurried, unquantified way. But my name is Alisha and I really can’t do that. Writing that sentence was making me shudder, actually.

So instead, I’m just going to say that this year, instead of making unrealistic goals for myself and calling myself a failure at the end of the year, I’m going to make unrealistic goals that I might actually follow. Like “Make time for kids daily (well, that one is actually a little realistic)” and “Read three non-fiction book a month.”

Who knows? Maybe next year I’ll be a success. Whatever happens, whether or not my self-improvement is quantifiable to me, it doesn’t really matter. The point is to keep trying, even when you feel like you’re not making any progress. I read this excellent quote once that went like this:

How do you know if you’ve fulfilled your purpose in life?

If you’re still alive, you haven’t.

So I guess I still have a ways to go.

Christmas in the Sun

Ahh, Christmas…the word conjures up all of those evocative memories of fires crackling in the fireplace (or, at our house, on the tv), the tree all lit up with mounds of presents underneath, curled up on the couch in a pair of warm socks with a good book in hand, while outside the snow falls gently, creating a winter wonderland.

Nothing about piñatas, tamales, or 80 degree weather says Christmas (to me). I think I’m in culture shock. Because I’ve spent the past couple of weeks planning my kids Christmas, and only now am I realizing that I totally don’t feel like it’s Christmas at all here. I’m not cold. I’ve received two presents, and I’m trying to be a grown up about that, but man, I really like presents! The Christmas music is all in Spanish, and Feliz Navidad is the worst song ever. Externally, you could say that this is shaping up to be a rotten Christmas.

Except it’s not, not really. I don’t want to make myself sound better than I am, but this is the first time that I’ve gotten to put together someone else’s Christmas, and I’m really excited. We organized what the kids are going to eat (tacos and roast chicken and pudding-Christmas-y, right?) what they’re going to do (make piñatas, dress up like princesses and watch Disney movies) and I’m thrilled to watch their Christmas unfold. Not because I’m really going to be partying-I’m going to be chasing them around and making sure no one is being hit/made fun of/having their stuff stolen/being sat on/etc., but because for the first time, Christmas really isn’t about me. It’s about them. They’re going to have a great time, and I got to be part of making that happen. It’s awesome.

So for all of you who are reading this blog, I hope you have a great Christmas. Enjoy the snow (dramatic shudder), enjoy your presents, and enjoy all of the blessings that God has put in your life. I’m going to be here, enjoying the eight little blessings he’s put in mine, and making sure they have a wonderful Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

Alisha

Some Things Are Worth Reading

Spurgeon preaching the truth:

http://teampyro.blogspot.mx/2013/12/the-separated-life.html

Read it. Think about it. Live it.

Loaves and Fishes...and Water Bottles?

I think it’s really easy to get worried in general and easiest of all to get worried about money.

It’s one of those monsters-sized doubts that just creep into your head. “Do you have the money to pay that bill?” “Do you have the money to be here, serving, at all?” “Do you have the money for that $12 peso quesadilla you’re about to consume?” The money monsters attack you until you’re making ridiculous decisions and doubting every financial choice you’ve ever made in your life.

I’m not saying don’t be prudent with your money. Being a missionary is hard, and I’m finding that a chronic lack of money seems to go with it. Honestly, recently I’ve started to question myself, wondering how I’m going to be able to sustain my life here in Mexico as my savings begin to dwindle. And that’s a real question, with real responsibilities attached to it, and it’s a question that scares me. Because even though I know that I’m here, doing what the Lord is asking of me, part of me-that little part in the back of my head that always seems to grow to a disproportionately loud volume when I start doubting God-wonders if He’s really going to take care of me, or if I’m underfunded because I’m somehow failing him?

When these things happen, it’s time for a miracle. Or at least some tangible evidence that the Lord really is taking care of me. And one such miracle happened to me a week ago, one that I’m still chewing on because it’s just so improbable.

Last week a bunch of my compatriots and I went to Cuernavaca for the evening, to promote the various branches of Living Hope International at a concert. I woke up not feeling very well that day, and spent most of the morning taking Tylenol and drinking tea. However, by mid afternoon I was feeling better, and we piled into the van for the 3 ½ hour ride to Cuernavaca.

Cuernavaca is beautiful-it’s a great place. We got to the concert venue, which was a baseball field, and started to pass out our flyers. About a half an hour into passing things out, I started to feel really sick. I was dizzy, and achy, and my throat was on fire. All I wanted was some water, because I felt like I was going to throw up or faint, and I really needed something to help. However, I only had $10 pesos with me. Which is like, $0.80 and doesn’t get you very far, even in Mexico.

I felt so awful though, I just had to give it a try. So, praying under my breath and swaying a little from light-headedness (I wonder if anyone thought I was drunk?) I went into the grocery store we were standing outside of. The whole time I was walking, I was praying, “Lord, please, let there be really cheap water, because I feel awful and I’m not going to make it”

I walked up to the beverage cooler they had, and there inside were the biggest water bottles I had ever seen in my life. They were like, 1.5 l, which is a LOT of water. I looked at the price, hoping to could buy one, and the listed price was $3.70.

People, that’s $0.28.

I bought two, and a little one with the left over change, and I felt better within 45 minutes. Better than that, I was able to share my water with my friends, who were also suffering from thirst. At a time when I had next to nothing, God used my poverty to show me how great He is, and how He can provide for me.

So I’ve also stopped worrying about whether or not God’s going to provide for me. If he can provide water for me when I had almost nothing, than he can pay my bills. My God’s looking out for me.

Mountain Climbing is for Dummies

You’ll have to forgive my nearly month-long silence. I would like to give you all a really good excuse, like I broke 9 out of 10 fingers in a freak skiing accident, or I’ve been buried in top-secret peace talks between North and South Korea, but that wouldn’t be the truth.

Or even really believable.

I have been really busy, and that’s the truth. And hey, I’m here, you’re here-let’s get this blog started! (And I promise to try to be more consistent if you promise to bear with me).

Tuesdays are my fast days. It’s my day, set apart for the Lord, when I pray over some of the things in my life that I feel need an extra push-specifically, the things I’m sure with never happen if I don’t pray over them. It’s amazingly rewarding, and really, really hard. One of the things that’s I’ve noticed over the past 9 months that I’ve been doing this is that God really talks to me on those Tuesdays. So it should come as no surprise that God chose yesterday to have a nice, friendly chat with me. I even had a cup of coffee.

Yesterday, after our weekly staff meeting/worship session (perks of being a missionary, peeps) I went outside on the balcony to get some air. I had been praying, and while it hadn’t been super intense, I just felt like I needed to breathe.

Spread out before, in this breathtaking way, was the sun setting behind Popo(catptl; really big volcano, for the uninitiated). It was amazing; the colors, the scope, the cloud formations-indescribable. I was awed by the view, which was so rich that I’m not even trying to do it justice with my words, because I know I couldn’t.

Seeing the volcano made me think about my recent trek up the Malinche, a local mountain that insane people like to climb for fun. If you’re guessing from my adjective choice I’m not a mountain climber, you are correct. And yet, somehow, I keep ending up climbing mountains in real life. Prophetic somehow? I don’t doubt it, and I’m about to tell you why.

My most recent climb up the Malinche was horrible. It was raining, it was wet, my lungs were burning, my legs were aching, the stupid mountain went up FOREVER-the list goes on and on. I absolutely hated every single second of it, and I’m not exaggerating. I wanted to turn around and go back to the nice, warm building about 10 minutes into the trek. I had no pride; I just wanted to stop, and the only reason I kept going was because they wouldn’t let me go back down by myself (something about getting lost, possible death in the woods, blah blah blah. Did not care.) Everyone passed me, and by the time I finally got to the halfway point-we couldn’t go any higher; the weather was that bad-I was 3/4ths dead and was reduced to a jelly-legged heap on a rock. I almost cried.

How is this prophetic, you may ask?

I feel like this whole climbing mountains nonsense is a lot like my relationship with God, right down to the jelly-legs. I’m on this journey up the mountain with God. Going uphill already sucks, but going up a mountain? It’s hard (please note the understatement here)! Every step of the way, I want to give up, or go back down-go backwards, or just stay where I am because I like it there-it’s dry and my legs hurt. And God is like David Acosta-who I may never forgive-spent the majority of that day telling me “Keep going, Alisha!” “Just a little further.” “Have some M&Ms” (for the record, M&Ms are nourishing to the body and the soul). He didn’t give up on me, and he wouldn’t let me give up on me, either.

I’m not saying that it’s God’s only job to be our cheerleader (because it’s so totally not), but sometimes I think it’s important to remember that you’re going up a mountain. Some parts are steeper than others. Some have rocks. Sometimes you fall down the steep parts, land on the rocks, and have to get your bruised self up again (ask me how I know). But my point is, it’s a journey, an upward progress, that we will struggle with until we go to be with Him.

However, you’re not in it alone-you have a guide. If you let Him, the Lord will lead you on a journey specifically tailored to you, giving you tasks that you are uniquely suited and gifted for you. And while it’s an uphill battle, you have someone to fight for you, to help you climb the steep parts, and watch out for rocks. Someone to help you up when you fall.

So really, spiritual mountain climbing is a heck of a lot easier than real mountain climbing.

By the way, if anyone has any questions for me, or wants to know how they can specifically bless me or my girls, please contact me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/alisha.tomsen.

Confessions of a Mold Breaker

I don’t want to be normal.

That may seem like a strange declaration, and maybe it makes sense. No one wants to be normal. Normal is boring. Normal is commonplace. Normal is antithetical to being special, which is what we all really want.

            

At some point, for good or ill, I made the decision to embrace my own non-normalcy, and to enhance it. Maybe I knew I was never going to fit in, so I decided to stand out. Maybe I just wanted to be noticed in a different way from “Oh, it’s that girl who reads all the time.” I didn't question it along the way, but now, at 23, I've become a dread locked, pierced, gauged and tattooed woman, and although I'm sure I'm not nearly as cool as I think I am, I’m left with a slight question of “When did this happen?”

           

Did I make the right choices in my journey to stand out? Have I just turned myself into an oddity? Who knows. I don’t regret any of my choices-exterior and interior, I am who I want to be (mostly).  But the point is, in become this person who stands out, I find that sometimes I really stand out.

           

The way I look causes people to draw conclusions about me before they know who I am. Not everyone, but some people. I've been told I’m rebellious, I’m a sinner, I’m a bad person-a whole spectrum of things, just because of a couple of piercings and some dreads. They think I do or sell drugs one time a lady actually moved her kids away from me. I feel so conspicuous at times, just walking down the street, because of all of the people looking at me. It’s not enough that I’m white-I’m also really different.

           

I’m not saying this for sympathy; I’m saying it so that you will understand what I’m asking of you. The problem with standing out is that you can’t blend it. You’re highly visible. You’re in front, for the world to see. And as Christians, we should be that visible.

            

Ah, you say, stoking your chin. I’m visible. Everyone knows I’m a Christian.

            

Well, good for you. But what about the people you don’t know. Do they know? When’s the last time you witnessed to someone on the street? More than just your friends knowing your religious convictions, could a stranger pick you out of a lineup as a Christian?

            

Jesus said “They will know you are Christians by your love (Jn. 13:35).” This sounds like a statement, but it’s really a command. We’re called to go out there and share the love of Jesus and His good news, and how will the people recognize our holy origins? By our love. It’s a tall order, and not nearly as easy to spot as a dread locked white girl.

            

I don’t want to be normal. Not on the outside, and not on the inside. I’m finding, though, that it’s a lot easier to change how you look on the outside than how you look on the inside. My love is insufficient-at the end of the day, I’m tired and cranky and rundown and I just want to sleep. I don’t want to show love in any form; I want a pillow and a book.

For me, the biggest test of my love is one of my girls coming up to me and telling me about their day, wanting my attention. I show my love, and Jesus’ love, to them when I read to them, or when I spend time with them, even though I've worked all day and I’m tired. For my girls, I’m one of the first, and most constant, examples of Christ’s love that they’re going to see, and it’s my responsibility-my charge-to show that love in every way I know how. Although my love may be insufficient, His isn't; it never ends.

Don’t be normal. You don’t have to get a tattoo; you don’t have to dread your hair. Don’t use me as your role model. There’s only one thing you really have to do, only one person worthy of emulation: Jesus.

Does your love look like his?

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

Teaching Verbs-An Anecdote from the Frontlines

"I never teach my pupils, I only attempt to provide the 
conditions in which they can learn."
-Albert Einstein

I don’t know if any of you have had the opportunity to teach children at any point in your lives, but it’s not easy. They’re little, and squirmy; according to them they have to go to the bathroom ever 9.5 minutes, and nothing seems to stick in their heads. Nothing!

Such was my predicament on Tuesday. Two weeks of trying to learn verbs in the present tense, and yet when I ask what the word ‘drink’ means, crickets. I thought to myself, no matter, I’m going to make them learn.

“Everybody outside!” I said. “We’re going to play a game.”

Immediately their interest was piqued. I heard a murmur go around the room as they got up. “A game? We’re going to play a game? Outside?” I heard Lucas tell one of the other boys, “I bet its going to be another boring English game.”

Well, seeing as how it was English class, it was in fact another English game, but not a boring one. As a group, we put our English skills to work. When I said the verb, they had to do it. Eat? Mimic eating. Jump? Start hopping. Run? Everyone around the basketball courts!

Ten minutes later, everyone was smiling and jumping and doing their English verbs, and they said, “Alisha, play with us!”

Why not, I thought to myself, and shouted “Run!” as I took off running.

 The past few days we've been experiencing a bit of wet weather, and the basketball court was drenched. Never the less, the kids had been running around, and so of course I would, too. But on the way second lap, disaster struck.

Being the overly competitive person I was, I was trying to beat a bunch of third graders by a mile. I started going to fast, and splat! My foot slipped and I went grinding into the cement, landing perfectly in a puddle.

I think it goes without saying that my class laughed at me. I ripped my jeans, scraped my elbow and bruised my pride. But they also learned their English verbs, judging be their test scores, so who am I to complain?

Those are my high-scoring tests: 10s all the way!

personal credo

Stuck

           

I want to write something inspired for you lovely people, and I’m stuck.

I’m not blocked. I have a whole host of topics I would like to touch on. Integrity, working with the kids, why sometimes people suck; all of these are things that I would like to talk to you about. But every time I sit down to write it out, I’m stuck. I’m bogged down, I’m jammed, I’m wedged in a corner-pick a mental picture.

Do you want to know what I’m stuck on? I’m stuck on black boots. I really want black boots.

I even have a really good reason. You see, black boots would go perfectly with 80% of my wardrobe. They would complement nearly everything I own. And I would be able to walk confidently into the world, well dressed with coordinating, pretty black boots. My life would be perfect.

I don’t care if you’re laughing at me here. This is really how I feel.

Along with my black boots, I’m stuck on how very much I miss the public library (I imagine they miss me too; who’s keeping them in business these days?) and Caribou. I’m stuck on how much it sucked to miss out on cheese curds at the state fair. I’m stuck on a million other little things that just seem to be accumulating in my life, like my innate need to go to Target every other day.

It’s not my intention to have a temper tantrum. I just want you to know what I’m stuck on.

There are a lot of things that I've given up that are pulling at me these days. More than just Target, I miss my freedom. And unlimited internet. And the ability to go where I want, when I want, to do what I want to do. I’m stuck on how much my life has changed in such a short period of time, and I know that there are still more changes to come. It’s uncomfortable.

It’s like any stage of life. You walk out the door of your old life, whistling and smiling, sure that everything is coming up daisies for you as you hear the sound of the lock click behind you. But after reality sets in, you find yourself moving towards that door. At first you just look at it for a while. Then you touch it. You begin knocking gently on the door, just to see if anyone’s there. You knock a little louder. Then a little louder. And pretty soon, you’re banging on the door with all your might, sobbing, begging to be let back in.

This, of course, is just me. I don’t know how sane people react to these situations.

There is no going back. There is never any going back. Yes, I could go back to the states and get a job, buy my boots and move on with my life, but that would be moving forward, not backwards. And while I really want my boots, I also want to serve God.

Even though I don’t have black boots, or the money and time to get them here, I know that I’m slowly getting unstuck. There are things here that are beginning to get a hold of my heart and dig themselves into my soul. Saturday mornings with my girls, and pancakes for breakfast. Cemitas at the fair. Movie night on the third floor. And, in the amazing symmetry of life, someday I will move on to the next segment of my life, and I’ll have to get myself unstuck all over again and stop banging on that door.

Maybe that’s my point, here. Life is change, and if you’re not changing, you’re not living. That door is always going to be there, beckoning to you, whispering how if you just go back, everything will be okay. But you can’t. Because there’s no going back-there’s only the whole world in front of you, waiting for you, and an unquantifiable God asking for your obedience.

Doing Hard Stuff

I realize my title doesn’t sound inspired, but bear with me, because I think I have something here.

Recently I have been struggling with the idea of having more intimacy with God. This is a goal of mine, and I feel like it’s something I’m on the cusp of. But I feel like the closer I get to this intimacy I’m longing for, the harder it is to do routine, normal things, like reading my Bible and praying. Granted, there’s the adjustment

coming back to EV and living in the dorms now, but I think it’s more than that.

My theory, which I spent some time ruminating on last night, is that the more you want of God, the more it requires of yourself. For example, you want to develop a gift of prophecy in your life? Look at the examples of the prophets in the Old Testament-you need to give a lot. You want more faith? Watch out for what God is going to ask of you, because Peter had to walk on water. Does your faith allow for that? Well, no, that’s why you’re asking for more…

For me, this makes me think of mountain climbing. Now, I am not athletic. I wish I was athletic. In my head, I am athletic. I have perfect balance, I never fall down, and I can run faster than Nike (think Greek mythology, not shoes). But in reality, I am not athletic. I do not have perfect balance. I fall down. A lot. And as far as running goes, I have exercise induced asthma and wheeze like an asthmatic basset hound when I run for more than a mile-not at all like the winged goddess of victory. 

Needless to say, mountain climbing for me is really, really, really (to the nth power) hard. And I hate it. I hate training for it. I hate climbing up the stupid mountain. I hate the sore legs and the dizziness and all of it. And, most irritatingly, I hate that I have yet to get to the top of an actual mountain (when not riding a horse with a wooden saddle, story for another time). So I train and train and train and never get to the top. 

Don’t be alarmed, folks. I haven’t lost my point yet.

I think a lot of us feel this way about intimacy with God. And by ‘a lot of people’ I mean me. Because I feel like I try and try but never really make the cut. I can never get that real intimacy with Him-I’m always almost there, but I never reach it.

The primary example of intimacy with God for us is Jesus. Seriously, I’m pretty sure you can’t go more than two pages in the gospels without reading some version of ‘Jesus stopped to pray.’ Or ‘Jesus was fasting.’ These two things, fasting and prayer, seem to me to be the two key things that lead to intimacy with the Lord. And, of course, those are also two things that basically kill me (spiritual-discipline wise).

I don’t want to exaggerate, but when I fast I feel like I’m dying. Literally, I get so hungry. I can’t focus on what I’m doing, I’m irritable, I feel like I’m a complete ogre. At the time, I’m generally so focused on not snapping at people that I don’t even remember I’m supposed to be praying, and by 6pm all I can think about-literally, ALL-is when I get to eat. It’s not a pretty sight. 

Luckily, this is a stage. Because when you get in the swing of things and you start regularly fasting, it quickly becomes something, if not pleasant, less death-like. And, amazingly, it really bears fruit. I feel like my prayers have so much more power when I have been regularly praying, and I see the hand of God so much more obviously in my life and in the lives of others.

Which brings me handily to my next point: prayer. I have to pray in the morning, because if I don’t, I spend the entire day telling myself it’s gonna happen, I’m gonna pray and, well, yeah it just never happens. So prayer for me involves getting my lazy butt out of bed at 5:30 in the morning. I am not saying this to brag; I’m saying this so that if I look tired you all know why. 

However, I have found two things to be true about prayer. One, that it is completely and totally necessary for my relationship with the Lord and two, that when I don’t pray, I can feel it. Not that I’m a perfect person when I pray-I’m very sure I’m never perfect-but I can feel the Lord at work in me in a more tangible way when I pray. 

I don’t know about you guys, but intimacy with the Lord is something that my whole soul longs for. I haven’t reached it yet, but I keep striving for it, because I know it is something worth attaining. Hence, all the prayer and the fasting even though I feel like I’m dying. And if that’s not encouragement for you guys, I don’t know what is.

Reality

Somehow, nearly a month has passed since I’ve come here. I’m not going to pretend that it has been an easy month; little girls are complicated! But it has been a rewarding month, and I’d like to share why.

I never really expected to be working in the little girls dorm, and at first, I inwardly rebelled. After all, they had told me I was going to be in a different dorm. And I’m not even any good with little girls. And they’re there all the time, and they want hugs, and kisses, and to have their hair done and their clothes picked out and all of those things that I really just don’t do.

You could call this a stretching experience.

However, after being the dorm for a month, I can tell you that (unsurprisingly) there’s a lot more to my girls than a truly shocking amount of barrettes. I have eight little girls between the ages of 6 and 12, and each one of them is different. They each have different personalities, different likes and dislikes, different ways of waking up in the morning. Some are smiley. Some like to cuddle. Some resist categorization in all forms.

One of these little girls is Ada. She’s seven years old, and she came to us along with her sister Alejandra in March. Ada is a sweet, caring little girl, who loves to play and cuddle and to spend time with others. Ada also has anxiety about just about everything on the planet, right down to whether or not she can eat a piece of candy that was given to her.

This is where life starts to get real, here in the dorms. Because Ada is a little girl who wants nothing more than to go home to her mommy, and she doesn’t understand why she can’t. Even though she likes it at Esperanza Viva, she doesn’t understand why she’s here. She worries constantly about her family, and wonders what they’re doing without her. She worries that her mom won’t come to see her on visiting day (because sometimes she doesn’t make it). She worries about her siblings, about her grandfather, even about the supervisors. If any of us leave for the night, we can count on hearing Ada’s anxious little voice asking “But you’re coming back-right?”

One of the things I recently learned is that life just isn’t fair. How do you explain to a child that her mommy had to pick which kids to send away, and she picked you? How do you make that not sting? If life were fair, I wouldn’t have to hold a little girl as she cries herself to sleep because she just wants her mommy and doesn’t understand why she can’t go home. That’s not fair. In no way is that fair. But that’s what we do here.

We, as supervisors, take care of children that don’t have anyone to take care of them, for whatever reason. We wipe the noses, we dry the tears. We’re there for the big moments, the small ones, and the crisis. That’s what we signed up for, and there’s very little-if any-glory in it. But there are moments.

When Ada finally stops crying and gives me a hug. When she tells me she loves me when I tuck her in at night. When she prays for her family and tacks on at the end: “And God bless Alisha and her mommy and daddy too!” These are all good moments in my life, moments that I’m learning to love.

It would be easy to end here, on this happy note, but that’s not where it stops. Because even though she’s a happy, healthy little girl, sometimes Ada still cries herself to sleep. Life isn’t fair, not for her, not for any kid here. But, thankfully, God is good. He’s putting these kids together, and equipping us supervisors with the tools we need to take care of each of them.

Alisha in Mexico!

I first heard of Esperanza Viva when I was 10. An orphanage? In Mexico? Sign me up! I honestly had my bag open and I was beginning to make a list of things to pack when my mother explained to me that I couldn’t actually go on the missions trip; I was too young. I begged, I pleaded, I cajoled, and I prayed, and when I was 14, I finally got to go. Fresh off the plane, I got in the van and took in the sights on the way to the orphanage: the way it smelled, the late night air, the lights marking where civilization was and how they abruptly began and ended, and I knew I was home. 

That may sound ridiculous, but it’s true. Ever since I discovered the place, I can’t seem to get enough of it. No matter where I go, no matter what happens, there’s something about Mexico that makes me feel like I’m finally home. And while I know that I won’t live there for forever, because God has called me to other places as well, I know that it will be where I come back to, again and again. And I love that I have the opportunity to live and work there now. 

I love my job. Esperanza Viva is a multi-faceted ministry: they will find your strength and put you to work. The children’s home takes in at-risk children; sometimes for a few weeks, sometimes forever; and while feeding them, sheltering them and educating them, also teaches them the Truth: How much Jesus loves them and what he did to save them. The church attached to the ministry, Naciones, has the goal of raising servant leaders to go out and reach the nations for Christ, starting in their own backyard. The school of ministry, La Vina, equips Mexican and American youth with the tools they need to begin ministry in earnest: knowledge of basic Bible doctrine, evangelism skills, and discipline, along with a multitude of other things. Those who finish La Vina and wish to keep working at EV (like me!) are taken on as interns: usually they live in the dorms with the children as supervisors and they are given jobs in the ministry depending on their skills.

This is what I am returning to: I will be a supervisor for the oldest girls-the Chavas-who are 15-18 (more or less) and I will be working in the office, helping with the ministry in any way I can. I am very excited, although a little trepidatious to work with teens. However, I believe that the Lord is equipping me for things in the future, and that’s my theme for this next year of my internship: Preparation.

Recently I was praying, and I realized that many of the things that God was speaking to me really reflected a time of readying myself for what’s coming next in my life. For example, I feel very strongly from God that He’s going to lead me to Rio de Janiero, Brazil in the future. Is it gonna happen tomorrow? Well, no, but the point is, it’s going to happen. So, in preparation for this, I’m going to begin learning Brazilian Portuguese this year. 

Also, I have be honest, God kind of smacked me upside the head while I was in La Vina with my own laziness. Thanks to my mother’s desire to nurture talent, I have had all sorts of music lessons in various instruments, but I don’t play anything. And why is that? Laziness. 100%. And the Lord kind of forced me to address that. So this year, I will be working on improving my Piano and Guitar skills, in the hopes of maybe one day joining a worship team, or at least being good enough to help if need be.

While I’m here, I am working on getting my Missionary Visa, so I can legally live in the country, and raising support. It’s missionary work; it’s not a paid position, so all of the staff need to raise the support they need to pay their bills. Right now, I am at about 60% of my budget for the year, and I have the goal of raising more sponsors while I am here. Honestly, this is my favorite part, because it means I get to talk to people about what God is doing in my life, and pray for them as well. It’s amazing, how much of a blessing it is to have sponsors, because it means even when life isn’t going right, even when I’m having a bad day or I feel like I can’t do something, I have people here who are backing me up. People here who are praying for me, people who believe in me and believe in what God is doing through me and through this ministry. Its encouraging and fortifying to my soul. And it means that my bills get paid, which is also good.

In reflection, I cannot help but ask, isn’t God good? He’s given me direction, he’s given me a place where I can obey his call for my life, and he’s given me all of you lovely people to help me. Thank you, immensely, for all of your continued prayer support-there is nothing better you could be doing. Please, pray for continued guidance for me from the Lord, as well as an outpouring of support. Pray for the continued hand of God over this ministry as it grows and expands, and for the safety of the children and the staff (not that it’s particularly dangerous, but prayer never hurts). 

If you have any questions, or would like to sponsor me and are wondering how, please don’t hesitate to contact me on Facebook. I would love to hear from you!

Thank you, and God bless!

Alisha

Obedience

Let's be honest: Sometimes God asks us to do some messed up stuff.

Example: Abraham sacrificing Isaac. Yes, I know he didn't actually do it, and it changes from a story of filicide to a tale of Abraham's devotion to God regardless of the price, and I'm not discounting that.

What I'm saying is, Can you imagine what Abe went through? His son, the son God had promised him, and now he had to sacrifice the boy? What? The excuses: "Um, God, um...I think I didn't hear you correctly...you said sacrifice the goat, right? Because I know you  didn't say what I think you said..."

Nope. None of that. The Bible says Abraham had faith, and it was credited to him as righteousness. Hebrews 11 even tells us "Abraham reasoned that if Isaac died, God was able to bring him back to life again (Heb. 11.19 NLT)." Abraham had a serious amount of faith-imagine, leaving your country and your family, all because God told you to. Settling in a foreign land, battling armies, surviving-prospering-against the odds and finally, even though is should not have happened, having a child and through him, becoming the father of an entire nation.He followed the will of God in his life, even when it seemed completely ludicrous and wholly insane, and God honored him for that.

The real question is, what do you do what God hands you an Abraham-sized call. The kind of call that causes you to leave your home for a foreign land, or believe in things that have no hope of happening, just because you know that you know that you know that the Lord spoke to you. Do you have the faith to follow that call? Are you brave enough to go where the Lord leads you? Will you obey, even though the cost might be higher than you ever thought-more than just money or leaving family, what if the cost is giving up certain dreams that you've held onto with a death grip for years? What if the cost is leaving behind everything that is familiar and right (to your mind) for what can only be described as an uncertain future?

If this is how you chose to live your life, it's going to be hard. There are no two ways about it. John 16.33 tells us "...in this life you will have trouble." Following the Lord is never easy. People will come at you, the world will shun you, you will face hardships. But John 16.33 continues with "But take heart! I have overcome the world." Jesus is outside of the world; he is above it and around it, and if we want to know what will happen if we choose to obey, we need only to look at the example of Abraham. In the Bible, he goes from unknown dude from Ur of the Chaldeans to the father of the nation of Israel. He's a big deal-up there with Moses and Elijah. Now, I'm not saying God will give you your own people group-probably not. But it is made very clear in the Bible that God rewards those who are faithful and obedient to Him (Lk. 11.28). And, frankly, if God's calling you to do something, and you know it's from God, what could possible matter enough to stop you from doing it?

Just Jump

Recently, I was swimming in a river in Oaxaca. We were jumping off of this ledge, about fiver meters up, into this deep pool fed by a waterfall. The water was freezing, and we were all tired and dirty, but we just kept jumping and jumping off.

I jumped several times, but its the last time that catches in my memory. I got up to the top, got ready to jump, and stopped. All of the other times I had jumped, I had just launched myself, without thinking, with a whoop of extasy. But this time, I paused.

I stopped and thought about all of the things that could go wrong. All of the things that could happen. I could hit my head. I could break something. I could drown and die. All of these thoughts came to me, and I stood rooted to that spot, unable to move. Even though I wanted to jump, even though I had done this a bunch of times, I could not move. I would like to tell you that I eventually overcame my sudden fear, that I jumped in a blaze of glory and it was a transcendent moment in the history of Alisha, but what really happened is I gave up after several tries and climbed down off the ledge, wondering what exactly went wrong.

What occurred to me was, how many times in life do we not do the amazing because we get mired down in the details? Ignoring the fact that jumping off cliffs is mildly dangerous, I didn't do it because I got scared. I considered a bunch of details that I had previously ignored and fear kept me from moving again. And while its important to consider the wisdom of your actions and be safe, how many times do we not do things in the name of comfort? "This is scary; I don't want to do it." "I don't know how to do this" or just "I don't want to."

Maybe we need to start doing scary things so we can experience the amazing.

I hope you all enjoy the new format and the new domain-this should be my blog's permanent home from now on, and I'm hoping to be able to post a bit more.

Alisha