A good friend, who is Mexican, once told me that in Mexico, a leader can reinforce the loyalty of those who follow him by visiting them in their homes. Growing up, our pastor rarely visited our home. It was not expected of him. This culture is, however, quite different from the one in which I grew up. Today was the day to visit some of the local congregants. Unfortunately, I chose the hottest part of the day to ride my bicycle visiting. Here is how that went.
My colleagues and I started with the homes closest to the church.
Rosario and her family of ten or so, live in a three room house with asbestos sheets for a roof. Cement floor. Additionally, her two married daughters' furniture is crammed into every available space. She told us that one of her sons had won a scholarship of 180 dollars per month for having the top grades in his Jr. High School class. I take particular pride in that as the aforementioned friend and I are responsible for his schooling expenses such as uniforms, utensils, etc. Otherwise, he would have been loose on the streets doing nothing or working in some brick yard for a pittance. She would not let us go until she had told us how she had cured a burn on a girl's leg by applying some kind of grease she buys at the local hardware store. She KNOWS I do not approve of her pseudo-medical ideas and home remedies so-called. I smiled graciously and politely left.
Elena either was not home or did not hear us knocking.
Quite elderly Martin and Maria were glad to see us. They rarely come to church due to the physical condition of their forty-something handicapped daughter. Frankly, I do not see how they get around with her as they have to practically carry her everywhere. At seventy, that seems like it would be hard to do. They shared their various ailments and most recent medical history with us. Their son, recently released from an alcohol rehabilitation program won a contest to become a sales manager for Telmex, Mexico's one and only telephone company. Strangely, he has been in Guadalajara for over a month and, according to him, has not been paid one thin dime, save the fifteen days' hotel accommodations, a cellular phone and the use of a company car. Inwardly, I wonder if all that is true or if he has "fallen off the wagon" and does not have the heart to tell his diabetic mother. Their other live-at-home son is "between jobs" again. Martin is worried someone will come and repossess his home unless he can get his credit card debt paid off. Ahhhh, that in itself is another quite long story. The bright spot, as evidenced by the only smiles I saw in thirty minutes, was their proud announcement of the arrival of their first great grandson. At five months, the mother decided to surprise them with a visit AND the news.
Equally elderly Juan and Catalina are well. Son Juan has married and moved his wife and three children into the house proper while his parents are being carted off to a bedroom at the back of the property. People, we are talking about an 8 x 12 foot bedroom with barely enough room for their two beds, a dresser and a Porta-john.
Lourdes and her children were home, but we only stayed briefly, as I intended to return with a drill, some screws and a hinge to temporarily "fix" her broken refrigerator door. The bottom hinge has rusted completely out, forcing her to prop up the door on a stick and a rock. Seriously.
Ofelia either was not home or did not hear me knocking.
When we finished, we were so hot we all went our separate ways and showered and agreed to meet later for supper.
The poverty, ignorance and helplessness really get to me at times. I fully understand that some of the suffering is self-inflicted, but I also understand that the severely depressed economy and lack of readily accessible education play an important role. If I think about it too long, it gets me down. On the other hand, it is good for me to be in their homes, bringing a bit of cheer and prayers and hope. It tempers my sermons, making them more compassionate and relevant to their situations. I know most of you are up to your eyeballs in illegal immigrants and probably wish they would all just go away. However, if it were me, I would most definitely swim the river, too.Until later, carry on then!