HOSPITAL STAY

The first four days in October I spent in a hospital somewhere. Several reasons landed me there: My EKG tests didn’t turn out well. My pulse was erratic and unstable. Growing shortness of breath. My feet were thick and swollen, and I’m almost 90 and we could go on and on.

The exciting part was that I landed there in an ambulance, My niece said that if I came in driven by ambulance I would get a bed and single room rather than a gurney in the hallway.

As soon as I arrived I was smothered with wires ... I felt like a meatball smothered with spaghetti. Then started test after test, pill after pill and again test after test.

My pulse is still independent (Somewhat Like I am.) it averages around 70 beats per minute. They got the pooled liquid from my feet and lungs back where it should be.

Once again I can count my toes. Swollen feet are a sign of congestive heart failure. That’s a chilling thought.

They discharged me with a passing grade and four pills to take daily. I was back to work in Mexico the following  day. Nothing that serious happened.

The only exciting thing that happened?  The third night a little bat flew in. I didn’t understand why such a little thing could cause such a big uproar. Nurses hate bats! Most nurses are women and women hate bats! The room was quickly vacated!!, I mean quickly vacated with the head nurse yelling to me ... did it touch you? Did it touch you?? The bat was traumatized, and the nurses were tranquilized ... the big night passed quietly on.

WHEN LIFE TURNS DESPERATE!

Generally when a man comes to us for help he’s a drug addict or "desperate". Thankfully Jose didn’t take his own life: a friend talked him out of it and suggested he talk with us.

His first big blow was his wife leaving him and their kids, while she pursued her romance with her girlfriend.

His wife’s new relationship was a tough blow to a macho Mexican man. Part of his job at the restaurant was delivering take-out food on a motorcycle.

A month ago while delivering food he was hit by a truck and his leg crushed. No job, only a Social Security pension of $20 a week.

He’s been asked to leave the two rooms in which they live because he hasn’t paid the rent. School uniforms and school shoes are out of the question.

His Doctor says he can go back to work in two weeks. Until then can we help this fragile little family of four? What would Jesus do?

A THANK YOU NOTE

When we come into this world, we come in unique in every way from temperament to physical abilities to whatever. Some things are natural to us, where many things we have to learn. All of us come in selfish, look at our first words. No. Me. Mine. Give me! No normal child has to be taught to be selfish. It's in him. It comes with the package.

But am I wrong when I say no child enters the world grateful. Thankfulness, gratitude, appreciation have to be learned. And in order to be learned they have to be taught, and taught at an early age when their mind is a sponge for learning..

Selfishness and self-centeredness are like gravity. Always with us, and always pulling DOWN! That's why "an attitude of gratitude" has to be developed, learned and constantly reinforced. Gratitude makes for happiness.

To form the attitude of gratitude takes a lifetime.

I'm surprised at how many kids aren't thankful! I'm surprised at how many do not appreciate what they have or who they are or ... who's they are.

Many parents don't understand why their kids don't respect them and appreciate them. (Some parents are so dumb!) Kid's have to be taught to respect their parents.

Go to several old folks homes, as I have, sit with an old lady, bring up the subject of their children ... and soon there will be tears. "My son lives near here, but he never comes to visit me ... maybe on Christmas. My daughter and my grandchildren live a short distance away ... but they never visit me!" Tears. Mama you never taught them to love and respect you! Here's a Kleenx.

Rest assured the flowers along with thankfulness, will kick in ... at your funeral.

Teach your kids to be grateful!

YOU THINK LIFE SUCKS?

Little four year old Josue was tragically burned in a car fire so Mexico Life Flighted him to Shriners Burn center.

70% of his body was burned.

He's a living miracle. His hair, eyebrows, ears and nose were literally burned off; his hands burned into fists. Even now Josue goes across the border regularly, where top cosmetic surgeons do their best. Many, many, painful trips. We've followed him with visits, gifts, and encouragement along the years ... his brothers and sisters are very good looking!

Josue is older now, and a faithful working part of our team of ten teenage boys. Half of these boys are handicapped in one way or other.

I came in the other day to see the boys all seated with their Bibles open listening to Lucas teach. So encouraging.

Josue has had a rough life, in many cases he's had to fight his way through. At every stage schooling was rough and he learned to be quick with his fists. We encouraged him to stick it out.

Now he has a group of buddies that don't look at him as odd but for who he is. Josue is quiet, polite and very helpful even though he has no hands, just burned fists. The years of growing up, stretching skin and muscles, have him still traveling to Shriners on a regular bases.

Soon the skin around his eyes will be worked on. Glasses needed.

But, there are still those dark moments where he feels worthless and he searches for the meaning of all this. Why me? It's hard convincing Josue of a loving God. Your prayers are needed and very much appreciated.

THE LORD IS UNFAIR!

THE LORD IS UNFAIR!

At least that's the way The Grape Pickers Union looked at it! There was a full on demonstration! There was anger. There was yelling! Protests. He's unfair! A Rich Man against the poor!

What right has the Lord hiring some local "scabs" for a few hours work and paying them same wages as those who had worked the whole hot day! It isn't fair, the grape workers chanted! The Lord bi-passed the Union and no one, but no one does that!

And even today, by our human standards, sometimes it looks like God, "The Rich Farmer," is unfair!

When will we, God's own children, get it through our thick human heads God thinks and judges differently than we do, and I might add, He has every right to do so! (Is.55:8)

Surprise! He changed the rules that evening in favor of compassion. He had compassion on the poor who needed work, the few who would have worked that hot day but weren't given opportunity ... after all, He said, "it's my vineyard: it's my money and I'll do with it what pleases me." And compassion pleases Him! It's sad that Godly mercy, compassion and grace doesn't seem to filter through to His earthly family.

God has the right to bless whom He wants, the way He wants, when He wants, and wherever He wants ... so be it GRACE! (Matthew 20:1-16)

DESTROY THE LIGHT!

I've spent a lot of time in the missionary's world, mostly tribal missions. Talk about parachuting into enemy territory.

MISSIONARY is a term most often cast in a lonely context. Christians leaving home to become the light to a people in darkness. Sent to be spent. A light sent into darkness.

Missionary: A God sent Light; sent somewhere into the darkness of Satan's domain.

Matt 5:14 "YOU ARE THAT LIGHT!" I don't read that we missionaries have the light, send the light, or carry the light or even bring the light. These verses are pretty clear: we are the light. 24/7 We re not to make it shine but let it simply ... shine.

24/7 darkness reigns over the Barros in which I minister. 24/7 thick dark smelly evil and evil doers are at work. I'm not bringing the light to these captive people, I am His Light 24/7. (Matt 5:14) My power source lives 24/7. Evil tries 24/7 to suffocate my light. To shoot out my light. As Christians we are newly born into a struggle ... a war. Oh that Missionaries understood the need to grow and maintain a large backing of Prayer Warriors or as I call them my "artillery."

CALL IN THE ARTILLERY In the military we had access to an unseen power. Heavy artillery awaiting our call. Just give them the enemy's location. We had air-strikes dedicated to our call. Just give them the location! Our responsibility was simply communication, letting the rear echelon know what was going on and where and when we would need them. Missionaries: Believers daring to parachute into enemy territory behind the enemy lines. And shine baby shine!

GARAGE SALE?

Of course in our world across our border we don't have garage sales. Many of the houses or shacks aren't even as big as a garage. We well know garage sales are where people exchange the junk they no longer want for money. These Garage Sales or Yard Sales are very popular.

In several of our more remote areas families will set a large piece of cloth on the dirt street in front of their little shack or an old fence and place their items to sell on the cloth or hang on the fence. Simply a curiosity to the passing Gringo ... but hardly a "garage sale".

But the truth?

What's really going on in many of these ground level one day "stores" would break your heart. Families, desperate for money, are selling anything they have, to get some pesos. Of course a few worthless items will be there but on that same cloth may be their little propane stove and gas bottle ... it's up for sale too. Reasoning? We need the cash and we can cook outside. On that same cloth may be children's clothing; their own children's clothing. Often a cup or maybe two chipped plates. Sometimes the little kids will place their smaller cloth on the ground too, placing several of their old toys up for sale. Today the poor will do almost anything for a little cash. Food, water and school are the priorities.

CANNED GOODS?

In the good old days people would stock me up with out of date canned goods to take to our Mexican people. In those days canned food was a hard sell! The truth was, that Mexicans didn't really like our canned food. Canned Boston baked beans? Sweet beans? Take 'em back to Boston. "We like our pinto beans with hot sauce". Sweet potatoes, yams, string beans, American made tamales?  Keep them in the USA.

What got me thinking about this was Hortensia's trip to Barrio Pedrigal last night. I phoned to wish her a Happy Easter, even though Easter was mostly over. "Are you home?" I asked her".  "No," she replied. "I'm on my way to Pedrigal with a load of canned food. Two families with a lot of kids gave me a call ... they are out of food."

Today it's much different! Today the people are truly hungry! Food is their priority! We go to a family with canned food and while mom is thanking us, the kids are opening the cans and eating the food cold. American food isn't the greatest, but it's a lot better than no food. (This has actually happened.)

Still ... buying our food in Mexico is smart! The dropping peso to dollar ratio gives us a big advantage ... more bang for the "buck"!

Thanks for helping the truly hungry fill their plates.

VON, "WHATS A GARAGE?"

"Von, what's a garage?" I struggled with that one! How do you explain a garage to those who don't have garages, or for that matter have never seen a garage? Any way that you try and explain it, it sounds rather silly.

Something a gringo might think up.

I tried to explain this phenomenon. "Well, a garage is a house for a car." Miguel thought on that for a moment. "You mean you don't park your car on the street?" "Well, no, we build a little house for them and we call them garages." The boy looked puzzled. "Do you have a little house for your car?" By now I was feeling a little awkward as I looked down their dirt road noting several old parked cars, most of which didn't run. No indeed there were no garages in the barrio. "Yes, I replied." Miguel walked away trying to figure out why gringo's build houses for their cars. I didn't want to compound the issue by telling him that some times we build car houses big enough for two or three cars.

I have a small house. I have a small garage and of course I have a small car. This evening, as I drove into my garage, I looked at it a little differently ... My small garage is about the size of Miguel's little shack where he, his mother and sisters live. It's all in how you look at it.

Miles away, worlds apart thinking.

THE CURSE OF BEING FREE

A couple of days ago a lady asked me "Von, have you ever considered writing a book?" I've been asked that question many times and my answer was a routine… "No. I'm too busy living life to stop and write about it." At age 87, I have little time left, so there won't be any auto-biography written.

To encapsulate my life between two colorful covers would be hard to do; it would be thick and clumsy and that's exactly why it hasn't been done.

Who I am. What I've done. Where I've been, and what I'm all about, has been carefully written down and stashed away in the cyber-world of webdom. My life and thinking are open to all. They're public. They're free and I guess that's where I made a mistake. . .what's free, is cheap and cheap has no value and what has no value is, in a word, worthless.

I'm a prolific writer, at least I think I am. I've actually been writing all my professional life. Not only the who, what, and why of von, but loads of helpful study material. But it's not between two covers, it's not for sale ... it's free.

I've written hundreds of blogs containing stories and opinions… last month my website, "PASTORVON.com" received more than 38,000 hits, my web-site has been on the Web since 1995 My website is a mosaic of stories, advice to Youth Workers, pastors and missionaries. It's loaded with photos, videos and cartoons. Pastorvon.com sits there quietly waiting for those who want to look and learn.

FIRST THERE WERE TWO

Indeed life is not fair. In Mexico justice is directly proportional to how much money is involved that's why I have to carry hundreds of dollars of cash on my person. Dangerous, of course ... and I well know money doesn't end corruption, it feeds it, at least where I work that's the case.

Rafa was standing on the corner. A cab was parked near him near the curb. The young woman driving the cab revved the engine and then something went terribly wrong; she slammed the car in reverse and pressed hard on the accelerator! The taxi zoomed backward jumped the curb running hard into Rafa standing there. The bumper rammed into his left leg in such a way as they couldn't extract his leg from the cab. Red Cross was called and ended up cutting off his leg to free him from the cab. A public, painful and bloody mess.

Could Rafa get financial help from the cab company? In our Country of course he cold ... but this occurred in Mexico. The girl driving the cab was the daughter of the owner of the fleet of cabs. Oddly enough the judge ruled in favor of the cab company and poor Rafa got nothing. Unfortunately, the judges in Mexico are crooked, the police are crooked, the institutions are crooked. In Mexico the only good guy you have on your side is your money.

Yes, we are helping people like Rafa, and his handicapped son Ronaldo trying to live on only $60.00 per month. We are helping many others like him. The two of them are living in a little one room bungalow that an American charity group built.

Thanks for making this good stuff happen.

LITTLE DADDY-MAMA NOE

Noe and his two little brothers run Barrio Laguna's dirt roads at will. Noe, is a small thin ten year-old. They love their Grandma but she's very old and can't keep up with them so they run the streets. Noe's mother is in prison along with their two uncles.

When Hortensia visits Barrio Laguna Noe often asks about von, he wants to meet von. His older brothers tell him about the days when Von visited their Barrio. Noe said “when Von came he used to give showers to his brothers and the kids played games and had fun when they were little, I want to meet Von."

Well, Hortensia finally gave in.

Last Saturday she picked him up, and he traveled with us several miles to our program to a poor Barrio named Ihido. Boy, the little ten year old sure looks like his brothers, blue green eyes and all..." Rather handsome little tyke. Noe, a visitor, blended in with the Ihido kids.

In our monthly visits to different Barrios, the kids have fun! They laugh. They have a blast with games and competition, winning toys, chocolates and dollars. No wonder they like von's Competition Days.

In these monthly visits we share food and help for the poorer mothers and families.

In the afternoon as we were leaving, I asked little Noe if he liked the day. Wow! He did ... I noted it was his lucky day, so I asked him how many dollars he collected. "Nine", he replied with a big smile. "Noe, what are you going to do with all that money" I asked. without stopping to even think, he replied. "I'm giving it to my grandma, we don't have much food."

Noe helps take care of his two little brothers while his mother is in prison. He helps wash them and feed them and change their pampers. His father and older brothers are into drugs and stealing They're what we call "Malandros" or feral teens that surface at night. Little Noe is small but does little jobs when he can. No he doesn't like his father or brothers "because they are always trying to take money from me."

When he got home that night, his oldest little brother ran to him and jumped into his arms. Noe, "Where you been all day?"

WE GET ALONG OKAY

I'm convinced that God has given a special gift to Hortensia, a "special magnet" that attracts her to needy people. Rafa was a pick-up along the road, he looked so tired she had the cab pull over and pick him up. Indeed he was tired, it was a long trip for a near blind one legged man. Rafa is nearly blind, can hardly hear and with only one leg, he has to use crutches. He has a thirteen year-old son he calls special, and Rolando is special; handicapped by severe autism. Rolando goes to school each day. Hortensia asked him how the two get along in their little shack.

"It's been very difficult, several times the Government has tried to take my son away from me but I'm fighting to keep him. I have a small pension (about $60 per month), and we can get along okay." You could get a sense a bit of pride in the comment."
Looking around Hortensia could see they are very needy. First of all, they cook with wood outside. They have no propane stove and live on very little food. Clothing? What they have on their backs.

In the cracks and crevasses of our Barrios, it's not hard to find those in need ... and with your help we can help lift the burden

Rafa has carried so long. It just seems the Lord leads us to situations like this. First let's get them a stove, some propane and some food to cook on his new stove.

ALFRED'S DAY

Last but far from least was Alfred! Alfred was to get a shower, he was number 38. Alfred is thirteen and severely mentally handicapped, and didn't want a bath and doesn't understand a water sprayer, and that's the way we give baths. It took several of us plus mama to complete the shower, but It was done. This was the second time so it was a little easier.

After the rather traumatic shower, Alfred's mother wanted him to have a haircut and Alfred had plenty of hair!

Marison is our barber. She is good and keeps clipping for hours, the boys love the way she cuts hair. Her two clippers are hot! Now enter Alfred and his mother and another experience for poor Alfred; a haircut. Things were going rather well until the clippers got clogged and made a terrible screeching noise which flipped Edgar out, now it was a three person haircut. For thirteen Edgar is strong! Every so often the screeching would start again and Edgar would gain strength ... while we laid hands on his head. About five minutes and four screeches later Edgar had his butch haircut! He looked back at the haircutters with disgust as his mother pulled him away.

A haircut doesn't seem like much, it's only about 36 pesos or about $2; but when the family's priorities are food, school and transportation ... haircuts become few and far between. Thanks Marison!

In our four neighborhoods we are appreciated by the hundreds. Thanks for making our ministry among the really poor possible.

MUCH MORE THAN HURTING PROTOPLASM! JUST TWO IN BILLIONS!

I prize this painful painting! It says so much, much more than I want to listen to. I have been there, I have seen it, I've heard the quiet sobbing, the coughing and cars passing by ... I've even smelled it. This picture doesn't harden my heart, it breaks my heart!

In this case, we Christians need more Godly heart attacks.

Too often compassion is trumped by reason, or some other way of fighting off Godly guilt. At any rate it never seems to get spelled right. If we're smart, and we are, we never stop long enough to let God's chemistry of compassion sink in. The more we look at this picture, the more it hurts. Compassion demands changes be made, and on occasion sacrifices be made! I've met many "mature" Christians who still haven't a clue as to what real compassion is. Compassion, mercy and grace are three words securely locked in their dictionary.

Every one of us who so carelessly call ourselves a Christian, has an obligation to respond with a sacrificial compassion to 'needs' ... to the needy we find in life's path. (Christians should never intentionally navigate around the needy, but we do.)

And as a Christian I want to have an empathy or sympathy ... even a sorrow for those who have 'wants' ... be it cigarettes, bottle of whiskey or another drug. Those are 'wants', not 'needs'. "I'm sorry but no!"

But for the truly needy, Godly compassion ... true compassion will move my heart, hand, even my pocketbook.

LOOKING FOR THE LOST 15 YEARS

Way back in 1981, a friend and I started "Spectrum Ministries," a ministry dedicated to the very poor just across our border in Tijuana. My friends backed me up and financed the new ministry and did it grow.

Because of the many years I did youth ministry here in San Diego, I thought of the potential of introducing American teens to become involved in an actual missionary ministry in a foreign country. Our Church is located right along the north south freeway. It became a great staging center for housing week-end groups.

I was always grateful for the years our Church hosted these teen groups from all over the nation.

This 'minister with us' concept grew and soon we were attracting groups from all over the U.S. Hundreds of groups added to thousands of teens and adults being introduced to a 'hands on' experience of actually serving the poor, aged and handicapped.

Often I look back at those fruitful years where teens could immerse themselves in frontline ministry along with countering a radically different culture. I feel those visits made a powerful impact on teens as they evaluated their lifestyle in contrast with the true poverty around them.

Now, some fifteen years later, how did that trip, or those trips impact their present lifestyle? I wonder if any would consider returning to serve the poor in Tijuana?

Just wondering if that "jump-start" experience really started anything, actually did it make a difference in lives?

THAT LITTLE DOLLAR

We were born poor, 1929 poor!  So about the largest chunk of money I had ever seen was the dollar, and Mama kept those. Ever since those old golden days, I've seen the dollar slowly tarnish and slip away in value. In that day my sister and I would go to the candy store with two pennies or a nickel and struggle with the decision of what candy to buy. A dime was worth today's dollar. And our today's dollar keeps sliding ... I guess it's only us oldsters that notice that! Coke's the same price just a smaller can or bottle. Hey! Who's kidding who?

But ... in Tijuana's rural areas where their peso is sliding faster than our dollar ... our dollar isn't paper, it's gold.

We have a range of needs in our hungry world. Indeed some are large amounts of money like special medical emergencies, funerals, accidents but normally your gifts are given in smaller amounts to our people and some of your dollars are spent on a regular bases; two come to mind. Widows, and a dozen families caring for the mentally and physically handicapped with little to no income. Dollars in increments of $5, $10, or $20.

For the kids It's $1 or $2.  A tooth. A Birthday, Good grades. Etc. Winning a game or challenge is worth a dollar or two.  We have more fun with our new colorful dollar game; a game I made up especially for Mexican kids! Kids play for dollars! They would rather have a dollar or two than toy's, including soccer balls. With the kids, any way you look at it, these dollars are translated to food!!  On average about a third of their dollar winnings are given back to mama for food.($2 or $3.)  The rest, if any, is spent at school for food or local junk-food. (Never fear, this game is played in their area only once a month.) ... and gives them a little happy fun time each month where they can forget, for a day, where they are and who they are or what many will become ... these little dollars you make possible.

EMERGENCY!!!

Well, the well predicted El Niño has finally slapped the west coast! In the southwest an El Niño is translated rain, and while Californians are jumping up and down and cheering wildly as we are finally getting our much needed rain, water and snow.

Tijuana is drowning! The sprawl of greater Tijuana has never prepared for rain. A well-known fact, and now it comes in bucketfuls. The corrupt Government that should have prepared the city are running around shaking their heads and pointing at each other, while shacks and houses wash down the hillsides and children die in suffocating mud. In one sense it’s comical, on the other hand it’s heart-breaking. Not only houses but lives will be lost. Mexico and it’s people will never learn to think ahead. "Ni Modo" rules.

I’m sitting here warm and dry in my little one bedroom house watching it come down. Sitting here a safe sixty minutes away from an ongoing tragedy. I feel like a general sitting behind the lines trying to figure a way to get supplies to the troops. The question is how.

My cell phone just buzzed another warning of possible flooding.

Today was bad, tomorrow the forecast is for a larger storm and even more rain.

I would, on behalf of the hundreds of poor people that depend on us; ask for your prayers.