LIFE IN A NO-WIN WORLD!

The good thing is that the gangs in La Cruces and Laguna aren't fighting each other anymore ... the bad thing is that the have aligned themselves in a mutual hatred against the police and authority.

More excitement. More danger. In every barrio Feral teens are running in packs!

These kids are out gunned and under equipped but well compensated by knowing their territory and their hatred of the authorities.

Police; better watch your backs ... and your families. Hate is inclusive.

Maybe that's why the police cruse these areas in five police car convoys with their Christmas lights flashing! Makes quite a sight. Makes quite a target too.

Testosterone vs. testosterone! As the kids will say, "it all comes down to balls."

In Laguna one day I remember sitting in my car watching a bunch of teens messing around in their basketball court when the police arrived ... half the kids headed every direction like rabbits; the other six didn't run, just quietly stood there. The quiet kids just standing there were cuffed and hauled away in a police pick-up truck, interrogated, beaten and then released to walk home.

These undisciplined kids need their beatings and the police need to beat someone ... I guess they deserve each other.

Last night Victor, 17, father of two little girls, was walking home from work when he encountered the police near his neighborhood. They told him to stand still but instead he ran. Bad move ... the police shot him dead! Victor wasn't really a bad kid. He wasn't even wanted ... but he's a dead kid now! He lived in Laguna.

Another Cop snuffed out a young life. Sleep well Sr. Policia.

At the mortuary last night Victor's teen friends from Laguna gathered to kiss the casket. The police soon appeared looking to take all his teen friends to jail and 'interrogate' them. Fortunately Hortensia was there to talk the police out of it.

If you do, or if you don't, if you're one or many, stand or run ... You'll be pulled, interrogated, beaten and released.

Just a way of life for these wandering packs of feral teens.

These wild teens we work with are in every neighborhood with guns, knives or broken bottles ... they're armed and angry.

They hate! Their target ... the police.

Pray for us as we work their world; trying to make peace, and trying to convince them to take another direction. It's hard while anger and hate blind their minds.

But we Believe all things are possible with God!

By the way, somehow they found out the address of the policeman that shot Victor ... this isn't good! Sr. Policeman, watch your back!

HOW I DEFINE THE POOR

Some have been offended and others confused when I use the term 'the deserving poor'. I'm not putting these people down, I'm simply calling it what it is; poverty that's deserved.

Is it true that Spectrum works with the 'deserving poor'? Yes.

Naturally some of Jesus doctrine on giving to the poor would have a Jewish spin on it. I think what our Lord pushed was helping the poor including the 'deserving poor.' Examples: The leper, the blind, the cripple, the orphaned, the widowed ... those who had little or no part in they're plight. These poor were not responsible for their plight. Those I would call the 'un-deserving' of their plight ... the 'un-deserving' poor.

However another perspective surfaces in Matthew 25 where Jesus does address the 'deserving' poor. 'Visiting those in prison.' Grace appears for the sinners ... those of us who are 'deserving' of our plight.

The Believer's love or compassion must never become affected by 'hairsplitting' legality! The Bible gives no list of do's or don'ts when it comes to helping the poor. A legal doctrine as to how, who, when, and where would simply rule out Grace! Of course we must at times make a judgment call, but always with the honest of motives ... always with the bottom line of grace. The grace we received, we return to others.

I personally help both the 'deserving poor' and the 'un-deserving poor' and I try to free myself of a judgmental attitude.

As to what I call the 'deserving' poor; I would define them as those who are like most of the poor Spectrum works with; people who are living out their own consequences. Most of these 'deserving poor' are where they are because they have made bad decisions; many are lazy or addicted to drugs. Thousands captured and content with their poverty-sub-culture and confirmed by the many well meaning American groups giving them food and clothing.

There is no way we can turn our hearts from the innocent children born into this kind of 'subculture.' Indeed they are 'un-deserving poor' learning the lifestyle of poverty.

In Mexico there is a saying "what I don't see doesn't exist." Even as Christians many of us have the same philosophy and we turn our eyes away from the ugly and uncomfortable truth.

The big question for us as true Christians ... does grace discriminate? The answer is simply no. The way I read it; to God we're all poor, wretched, blind sinners awaiting condemnation.

Enter, God's grace.

How I relate to the poor around me says something about my Christian maturity. If I'm eager to discriminate between the 'deserving poor' and 'un-deserving' poor! It sounds a bit like the bigot Lawyer asking Jesus. “ and who is my neighbor?' The motive behind that question was so clear!

Many who love to argue the issue never give a cent to charity anyway.

It's true that as Christians we must make good and responsible decisions when we are faced with helping the poor, but our response must be the result of a clean and godly motive.

I hope to go through life with a godly balance in meeting the needs of all poor, the deserving; the un-deserving alike, and when I err ... may I err on the side of grace.

God, release my grip on the money you give me to do the good it was intended to do.

FUN AND FOOLS

I was very rich once, but walked away a few hours later ... bankrupt! Just as poor as I was when I started the game. This paper dream was fun while it lasted. Monopoly, one of the most popular board games ever invented! Mini capitalism on a board. Big money, buying and selling. Taking advantage of a simple throw of the dice.

Monopoly!

What powers this game is the same thing that powers Capitalism ... greed!

How fun it is to be rich! Filthy rich! Nothing else matters while you're throwing those dice.

Capitalism is a system that works. Capitalism: regulated greed that's open to all ... can't help but be successful; we all are born with what it takes ... greed! The smart energetic person is rewarded ... the dumb and lazy person, well, he loses. It's as simple as that.

The down side of Capitalism, and there is a down side. Capitalism gives us what we need, and that's good, but then Capitalism gives us what we want and that can be bad. What we want is seldom what we need. We want leisure, ease, pleasure, immorality, entertainment; we want what tastes good. We want, and can afford to buy, what makes us weak.

Alas, the better Capitalism works, the more affluent we get, and the more affluent we get, the more decadent we get. Like a pleasurable and slow acting narcotic we succumb to our desires. Weak. Spoiled.

The fatal blow comes when we begin to realize that it was just a card game and paper wealth after all ... and while playing the game we gained nothing and missed everything.

We missed what life was all about.

OUT OF CONTROL

When the family is out of control, the kids are out of control. Order begins in the family. Discipline begins in the family. Authority begins there too ... we were parented! We didn't grow like weeds.

The other day I saw a little boy in the market crying, screaming and throwing a fit! His mother stood there rather embarrassed with that 'what can I do about it' look on her face. Her little brat carried on for quite a while.

Nice mother, lousy parent!

Things like that just didn't happen in my day, or at least not very often. Why? It simply wasn't tolerated! Authority and order prevailed. We were parented!

Adults had authority. Adults were in control ... and it felt good.

My mother may have been thin but she was in control! Yeah, I grew up poor and I'm not ashamed of it; 1929 just wasn't a good year to be born. They say my first bed was a dresser drawer .... a 1929 'make do' basinet. Papers formed one of my blankets. No pampers only washable diapers. And my mother said food was hard to come by.

Looking back, being poor never hurt me, rather quite the opposite, it helped me ... made me resourceful strong and independent. I was the product of a single parent family; no one likes divorce but that's the way it was. I'm so glad I was parented by a stay at home mom that showed both love and authority ... I'm glad I was brought up the old fashioned way.

When I screwed up, and I did, mom got the coat hanger and used it.

Yeah, mom taught old fashioned ethics ... Fear God. Respect adults. Sparing the rod will spoil the child, kids should be seen and not heard. Telling the truth was an essential and keeping my word fell in that category. Do your best in school, you can do no more. Take care of the toys you have. And, oh yes, always say thank you!

Did we go to church? Of course we did! Every Sunday we walked to church with our Bibles in hand. Mom always found some church somewhere that was filled with Believers.

The old TV set we watched in the store window provided us with good, clean entertainment which was an assist in teaching good Ethics. There were good guys and bad guys and the good guys were the heroes. 'Leave it to Beaver' and 'Father knows best' weren't icons of ridicule but examples of what should be ... examples that helped teach us ethics.

In those early years we watched TV and listened to Radio which actually helped reinforce the ethics we were learning at home.

As kids if we wanted something, it was understood that we would save our money until we could buy it. Most of us learned to work early. My first job was selling magazines. The Saturday Evening Post magazine.

Early I learned that work was a good and necessary ethic if I was to be a man. It may seem shocking today, but I wanted to be a man.

Sadly, everything I've written above seems to clash with the liberal Californians of today. I scratch my white head and quietly ask ... what happened during this span of time? I find I no longer belong!

MY IDENTITY IS BEING STOLEN!

I was born a free individual but ever so gradually I'm being reduced to a statistic.

I'm confused, not only as to who I am but as to where I am. Am I here or have I been painlessly dissected and placed in a billion computers around the world?

I'm tired of being a statistic, a digit, a stroke, or a vague cyber mark. I feel uncomfortable being the target of studies somewhere. Just one ingredient in a demographic stew ... or worse, a piece of data lost in group marketing.

Is my end only to be pounded into a kind of cyber powder and then fed into a millions of databases throughout the world.

Am I not worth more individually than collectively?

Sadly it seems answer is no.

Like everyone else in this age of disconnect, I hunger to be recognized as an authentic flesh and blood individual with a personal name and of personal value ... actually living here in San Diego with real friends.

I'm not a vague entity content to play out my life vicariously

Looking into my mail box doesn't help much. Letters to me addressed Dear Occupant, Dear Customer, Dear Senior Citizen, or Dear Home Owner. These warm and enduring titles leave me flat.

Or the random mechanical phone calls I get that start with "Are you the head of the household?" If so press one, if not press two.

Who knows me, who knows my name? For that matter who cares?

Oh! But this year the censes is coming and just in time. Cheers! Finally they're looking for real people and I'll be included.

Whoopee!

Well, the censes starts off with me as the star, but as we go farther down the list of questions we painlessly merge into the default mode ... 'marketing!' "Do you have a dishwasher in your home?" "Yes, but she's out shopping!" Again, I find myself being painlessly transformed into data ... living data.

Little by little I'm disappearing by simply being absorbed ... into the world of data!

MY LITTLE CUBE OF FREEDOM KEEPS GETTING SMALLER!

Last month Time magazine wrote that in U.S. Congress last year, 8,696 Bills were introduced! Lots of laws eh? Now let's add the State legislators list of their bills and laws affecting us at a State level, then of course our thousands of thousands of city legislators making more and more laws and ordinances continuing to cut even more of our individual liberty down.

Maybe it's because when I was young each American's area of individual freedom was a cube that was big and wide.

Of course we had simple and common sense laws; laws like no chewing gum in school, or no-fishing or no-swimming gradually a few no-hunting signs appeared.

Now in my later years I can actually see the little cube of freedom my government allows me continuing to shrink. It's so small now that almost anywhere I step I've violated some ordinance!

Have you ever noticed that the smaller our cubes of individual freedom get the larger the prison population gets? Still the legislators keep chopping our freedoms down with new laws.

Be happy and content in the cube of liberty we allow you ... for the good of all!

Living in America used to smell free! I remember awakening each morning breathing American air. I breathed freedom and it was good.

Today's younger generation has adapted quite well to their shrinking cube of freedom ... finding a corner in the their box of liberty they sit contentedly with their 'GameBoy's' living out their vicarious dreams. Another synthetic solution.

Three cheers for the technology that will keep us amused and contented as our shrinking box of freedom grows ever smaller. Does it bother you?

I guess only a few of us are uncomfortable with what's going on.

Not only is my little space of freedom shrinking but my independence is becoming cramped. It seems that my independence is becoming a threat to others. Especially when we are all being groomed to be dependant and politically correct.

I've always been proud of being part of the top of the species line ... 'Homo sapiens' and specifically proud that I was created a man, however being an intelligent man I refuse to lower myself into being one of the politically correct and dependant lemming of today ... playing 'follow the leader' over the cliff! A rather terminal concept. Not for me.

Every year, out of the schools, colleges and universities pour millions of young, politically correct lemmings. Prepared by the professors of academia to be led; well prepared to fit into the lemming parade.

As I see it ... the fate of a lemming is nothing to be proud of!

I wonder what it would be like to smell again the sweet fragrance of Freedom? Boy it's getting tight in this little cube.

THE UGLY TRUTH

This pathetic little mongrel has broken free, he's wandering the dirt streets of Tijuana on his way to nowhere in search of food. This dog's unloved; He's been beaten and starved. Now he'll be the target of cars and bullies. This poor furless thing will always be running ahead of the sticks and rocks thrown his way. Later to be caught, tied-up, tortured and burned. It's a tough world for a Tijuana dog.

Hunger? I've seen two dogs so hungry they were eating on a third dog that was dying and too weak to move. Just whimpering. I've seen more than one car swerving to hit a little skinny dog on the road.

Emotions run wild as we think of this. It's cruel. It's ugly. It's so much easier to turn from truth, than it is to face it.

Speaking of truth . . .

It's a fact that I can elicit more pathos from people seeing our poor dogs down here than I can for the Tijuana poor; eternal creatures that live here in Tijuana. Many were domed and damned from their earliest years. My North American friends don't realize that the dirty poor in Tijuana are as helpless, hopeless and hurting inside as this young pooch appears to be on the outside.

As the Bible says; God looks on the heart, man looks at the outward appearance. I find that so true.

Our ministry calls us to face the truth, daring to look inside; gain trust and help where we can, even if it means opening 'can's of worms no one else will touch.


Look at this kid. Is there any compassion left for him?

(It's true that our ministry isn't for dogs, but I always carry dog food in my car. Often dogs will run from me as I offer them food. Why? They don't trust me and they have been suckered too many times.)

A SEASON TO BEND THE RULES

I remember so well a Christmas in Tijuana that I saw a little boy make an agonizing decision. Hundreds of new gifts were all laid out. Cars, dolls, balls, kites blankets and tarps. It was simply heaven on earth for a boy his age, like a key to a giant toy store!, The little kid let his eyes wander over the many possibilities. He could only choose one ... and finally he did; he picked a new little red truck. Then his mother called him over and talked with him. The poor little kid slowly came back, placed his truck back with the other gifts then picked up a new blanket and headed back out. I don't know what his mom said ... but it was apparent that the blanket was the priority that cold Christmas. When I watched this happen ... well, the fact is ... he walked out with his blanket AND his new red truck and a smile on his face. Sometimes we just have to bend policy!

THAT LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CORNER OF HELL AND PAIN STREET

It looked no different than the other houses on the street. A slapped together combination of old plywood, two-by-fours, cardboard and plastic tarp surrounded by a make shift fence of old boards and wire. In the weedy chunk of yard was a scrawny but aggressive dog chained to a dog shelter of sorts.

Indeed the small two-room house may have looked like 'hell,' but it was the inside that made it hell.


Inside the small dark house with one window and a door lived a family plagued with problems. The environment could best be described as truly hopeless. Mom, a sick alcoholic with T. B. and AIDS. A father who was an angry man sick with TB and AIDS and the four small kids. Little Jasmine (6), and her brother, Jose (5), both had AIDS and T. B. Roberto (12) and Jennifer (11) were the oldest and each had T. B. Roberto and Jennifer cooked and worked odd jobs for cash.

They all lived together, occasionally ate together and fought together in that dark and dirty little house. Crying, hunger, drugs and alcohol along with cockroaches were just a part of life. Early in the morning Jennifer could be seen walking the street trying to bring her mom back home.

Relatives, like the neighbors, kept a silent distance.

It all exploded one day when the Mexican government came in and took the family apart. One day they were together in their familiar pain, the next they were separated and enduring a new form of pain ... the pain of confusion and loneliness.

Roberto, he became little boy lost. Jennifer, she's with her little sister and brother in an orphanage.

Hell takes so many different forms ... we see it too often. My heart still aches every time I pass that broken down house ...

... on the corner of Hell and Pain.

ARE YOU DOING ANY GOOD?

Jesus went around '*doing good' ... I like that. His enemies had 'good 'in mind too. The Pharisees went around looking good and 'being good'. In fact they prided themselves on being good, very good. That was their goal, to be good by living up to their self made legal standard. Their legal standard was one of don'ts, rather than do's.

When Jesus entered the world there was a clash of good's! Godly good, and mans good. There is a difference.

Jesus cut the Pharisees exhausting legal labyrinth down to simply saying. Love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as your self ... 'DO' this and you will not only be good ... but *'do good'.

Today Evangelicals tend to drift into the same human weakness of 'being good,' like the Pharisees did ... making their own definition of good and going about keeping it. Interpreting good in their own eyes. Their definition of good didn't include doing, only being. 'Being good'?

Often you have to stoop to *'do good' and their pride just wouldn't allow them ... to stoop!

My very Christian mother used to tell me, "as Christians and Fundamentalists, we focus on the soul, on the eternal, now the liberals, they're out their doing works, helping people in a physical way. We have more important things to do."

The wealthy young *Pharisee asked Jesus ... 'Good' teacher, what must I do to obtain Eternal Life?" Jesus first tackled the Pharisee's use of the word 'good'. Why do you call me 'good'? Is it what you've seen in me '*doing good' or heard from me in teaching? Or both? Mr. Pharisee what do you mean by 'good'? Only God is truly good, and to be good is to be Godly. Man continues to corrupt the term into an intellectual and super spiritual thing. A sterile good.

Being good has just a tinge of hypocrisy.

Yes Jesus went around *doing good, and look what came of it.

He won the hearts of the multitudes by '*doing good' ... and the Pharisees, 'being good,' crucified Him.

(* Acts 10:38 and Mark 10:18)

THE ONCE GREAT OLD MAN.

He was strong then; standing tall and healthy and looked you straight in the eye. I was looking at a no nonsense man of courage; a proud man they called Uncle Sam.

As a young boy of about ten I first noticed him. He was pointing at me from a poster stapled to a telephone pole.

Uncle Sam, the representation of the USA ... America personified. A true patriot! Red, white and blue and proud of it!

I'm an old man now and I still remember him. Being old, I know what age can do. It's a gradual process. It's a deadly game that ends with 'gotcha!'

My hero, Uncle Sam, is older still and he is no longer the healthy courageous man he once was. His immune system is no longer what it was; diseased viruses with their deadly agendas have gradually overtaken his inner defenses. Slowly a multiple of cancerous tumors are growing, determined to devour their very host.

Once young and strong my Uncle Sam is becoming weaker by the day.

On occasions his judgment seems impaired and at times he seems to have lost his memory; forgotten who he was and even what he stood for.

The once great Uncle Sam, whom the entire world looked up to and respected, the benevolent Christian Capitalist that believed in liberty and justice, who would defy any and all who would challenge him. He stood for what was right and would bow to no one but God. He wasn't ashamed of the Bible on his desk, or the God he served.

He didn't let little punks push him around.

I caught a glimpse of him today and I could tell by his face he was sick ... Uncle Sam, my hero, was turning yellow.

Even more troubling, I wonder which of us is going to die first

IN GOD WE TRUST GOD OR ...BENJAMIN FRANKLIN?

Surprise! A couple of weeks ago, quite by accident, we found ourselves completely trusting God; you see our Mexican insurance agency we had used for years went belly-up and didn't let us know our seven vehicles had no insurance while driving in Mexico. Of course that left us entirely dependant on God; not just for one day but over a week! Wow!

Speak about risk!

What a situation to find yourself in ... completely trusting Almighty God!

In fact, for a few days, we were 'gambling' on God's promised provision and safety. On one occasion I was late going to Mexico and didn't pull in for a day's insurance and Glory be; wouldn't you know; I had another day of safe driving!

On another occasion, years ago, our own American 'Christian' insurance company in which we trusted and which we had invested in for many years proved unreliable. After a small incident in Mexico we found we weren't covered and had never been covered while in Mexico ... (in medical areas or damaged vehicles). Misguided trust and a lot of money poured down a bottomless hole. Can't beat those 'Christian Insurance Agencies' and how they play "Gotcha!" Indeed the Devil is in the small print! Lesson: read before signing.

Unknown to us, we were depending on God; we truly had no 'Christian' insurance agency backing us. Incidentally, a 'Christian Insurance Agency' sounds more like an oxymoron or perhaps a religious 'ponzi' scheme.

On one hand, our Christian brothers and sisters say we aren't acting 'responsibly' if we don't have secular insurance coverage ... On the other hand, Almighty God says "trust Me." Somewhere I've heard said: In God we Trust. I can also mention a few great hymns I've sung that focused on trusting God!

Rather confusing.

Admittedly I have a tendency to trust more in a secular hero like Benjamin Franklin and his common sense approach than in God. "God helps those who help themselves ... " Now that resonates with the secular me.

Maybe it's a combination of both.

With me; at least it's an honest struggle.

I must admit as I look in the mirror I still have too much hypocrisy in me.

Sorry God! ... Oh, and thanks for the many times you've protected me despite my 'secular insurance coverage.'

BULLIES, BARBARIANS AND BULLDOGS!

When my mother found out that I had a kid in my school who was bullying me; her solution was to go to the principal, or teacher, or the boy's parents to have him stop bullying me. "Don't fight the kid; that makes you just as bad as he is." I was horrified that she would go that route; knowing that route would really get me creamed.

Even as a kid I knew all of her solutions were wrong, in fact any kid knows that. But she was a woman and just didn't understand a situation like this. Women it seems don't understand force or power. You see that bully like any bully, had to meet a superior force! He was thinking fist, he understood fists and he had to meet a bigger fist!

Bullies, Barbarians and Bulldogs; all three respect a superior force ... a superior power, and they all thrive on the fearful and naive.

Negotiation and compromise are not and will never be in their dictionary.

How can our proud 'well educated' and 'intelligent' leaders be so dumb?

All people respect power and all dictators respect power. And here we are, the United States of America, arguably the most powerful nation on earth, groveling before the little bullies of the world.

Try negotiating with an angry bulldog, it just won't work! Try negotiating with barbarians bent on killing you and your people, it won't work. One thing for sure, they do understand a superior force.

It's not only sad, it's sick, seeing our nation actually grovel before the little Dictators of the world.

Ahh, yes, we voted for change ... and indeed we got it!

A leader whose profile is that of a groveling man.

TRICKY-TRICKY

Last night was Halloween; complete with a cold night, slight wind, and a bright full moon. In Tijuana they call Halloween, 'Tricky-Tricky'

... and kids appear from everywhere.

As I was driving home after speaking to a group of teens living at an orphanage that was located in a large remote area of the Tijuana back country; I noted how different Halloween night would be a couple of miles north in good old San Diego.

In this area there were no lights, just dry hills, and small, candle lit houses located along dusty rabbit trail roads. As we drove down the road my head lights caught small groups of rag-tag kids costumed for the night carrying little floppy plastic bags and walking along the side of the road; the trail to goodies. The little houses, each with a small bowl of sweet treats, were spaced from a half mile to a mile apart. Quite a night's hike for just a few pieces of small candy.

To kids who have little to nothing, getting a few pieces of candy is worth the long hike. Quite a contrast to rich San Diego.

GOOD OLD GREED

There's a lot of talk from our administration about greed, especially of the greedy big rich guys; the big greedy oil companies, mega-banks and insurance agencies and we could go on and on! Are these guys actually greedy? You bet!

We all know that wealthy big business tycoons don't give a damn about us as individuals, no love lost here ... however, corporately, 'we' represent profit so we do matter. "We" matter a lot.

What is Capitalism? Capitalism is simply greed under control! Ahh, the struggle of limiting unlimited power. The very energy essential to capitalism is 'greed', that's why it's been so successful! Capitalism utilizes the greed each of us has, and make no mistake we each have greed within us.

Greed is an obsession that's common to all of us. It's inherent in human nature, knows no bounds. Human Race? The energy of the race is greed!

The only thing that will satisfy greed is ... 'more!'
For some reason the greed most of us talk about is the greed for money. Let's take another look! What about greed for popularity, celebrity, control or power! Power being the ultimate greed!

I can't understand why our leadership is so blind. For some reason they don't see, or maybe won't see, that 'government' has just as much greed and corruption working in it's bureaucracy as the 'public sector' has in it's corporate structure. That's a given, look at history!

Where there are humans, rich or poor, there is the potential for greed.

The Administration believes that our greedy and corrupt Government bureaucracy should become, of all things, a 'watchdog' over the greedy and corrupt public sector?

Who's kidding who? Sounds like a power grab to many of us.

The one overlooked factor that swings in favor of the Public Sector, and the one thing we can't deny, is that in the Public Sector is where we find efficiency ... never do we find efficiency in the labyrinth of government bureaucracy.

Conclusion.

Government should stick to governing! The Government has no business getting in business.

FACES

As I study the faces of kids here in the U.S. and compare them to the faces of my many kids in the poorer areas of Tijuana. I find a very visible contrast; an unsettling contrast. The expression on the faces of American kids seem to read dull, sullen and unhappy ... almost like the adults they're trying to emulate.

Contrast that with the honest and animated face of boy-hood joy!

I guess I mean to say that our U.S. kids don't act like kids. Boyhood fun today is a kid quietly sitting scrunched up in a corner playing with his little joy stick, vicariously playing out his life using an electronic game. He can be a successful criminal, boxer, a soldier or sports hero ... just a few dollars more and he can enter a new and different world of challenge.

What happened?

That's a good question; a more important question is how long has this movement into the vicarious been happening? Weak chubby little American boys with that electronic stare already on their faces. Their fast moving little fingers bring them victory in fighting the unreal.

In my Mexico, where progress and technology are simply two words found in a Western dictionary somewhere, the kids show a youthful excitement, curiosity and joy of life. Happy-go-lucky bundles of boundless energy. You'll find them spinning tops or playing marbles. Kids happily pushing old four wheel carts, riding crippled tricycles. Wow! That's fun.



Even the poorest of kids in Mexico are a happy, energetic and noisy bunch. Why? They're normal kids; outdoor kids and as kids they are happy.

And they don't have our technology ... yet!

On the northern side of the border while our wealthy and sophisticated little American kids are busy staring into their addicting screens, our young teens are busy Googling out the forbidden fruits of 'Adulthood' ... Adult shows, books, magazines, toys, games, parties, language ... teens way too young to know that there is no meaningful purpose in hedonistic pleasure.

Where has the simple joy, freedom and happiness of youth gone?

Is anyone really paying attention as to the direction in which our technology is taking us? Our youth have got technology, or worse, maybe our ever addicting technology has them.

A bad scenario.

PEPE'S NEW FRIEND

Roberto's home tragically exploded the other day and he ended up as one of the flying pieces. He had two choices, the street or an orphanage. It's hard to explain to a sobbing twelve year old what happened and why it happened. I reminded him what happens to young kids who try to make it on the street. He, like most kids in the neighborhood, knows the facts of Tijuana life.

As we were settling him in an orphanage located near little crippled Pepe's house, I asked him if he would like to take a side trip and go with me to visit Pepe. I thought seeing Pepe and his condition might temporarily take the sting from Roberto's own world of problems.

He agreed and wanted to see him.

Pepe was excited to see us, especially me as I always give him a little Hotwheels car. The two new friends got along great, soon they were happily playing 'cars' together. Just two boys having fun.

Pepe became thirsty so I asked Roberto to give him a drink of water. Roberto looked at me puzzled and then realized the situation, Pepe can't feed himself. He found a glass, walked over to the bottle of water and poured some water in the glass, placing a straw in the glass he walked back to Pepe. Roberto had to hold up the glass of water so Pepe could drink. It was sort of neat to see this.

As we left Pepe's house I asked Roberto how he felt there with Pepe. "I like him, he's fun, I want to come back, he's my friend." "Roberto, did you forget about your problems while you were playing with him?"... He thought for a moment. "Yeah, I forgot all about my problems ..."

An interesting sight. Roberto the rejected, helping Pepe the cripple.



One way we can forget our own problems, is by getting involved helping others through their problems.

PTL POWER-ASSIST!

I stopped my car one night in Pana to leave one of the kids at his home. When I got back in and tried to start my car I found the battery dead; real dead!

The wrong time and the wrong place for an old Gringo to break down.

Seeing I had no battery, some men a few houses down opened a big steel door and motioned me in to their tire shop. I really had no options at that point so I went for it.

As I was on a down hill slope, I put my car in neutral and proceeded to coast into the shop. I was in for a surprise! No 'power-assist'. I forgot about the 'power-assist' and as rolled down I found it nearly impossible to brake! Hard to even slow down, then I tried the steering, wow! Surprise! I could hardly steer the car into the shop, and harder still to stop!

I put everything I had into it. I barely made it into the shop; I barely stopped.

There was a neat lesson in all of this.

In our every day driving, we're used to 'power-assist.' We simply expect it and never give it a second thought! However, when our power goes off, as it sometimes does, we end up on our own strength ... without 'power-assist.' The situation can become a dangerous moment, almost impossible to steer and brake. It turns to a physical issue. Our weakness is apparent.

Now that I'm older, I think of my body as a temporary vehicle used to haul me around. Actually, isn't that what our bodies are? My body is the temporary vehicle of my eternal soul, hard to manage, hard to steer in a good direction and harder still to break from passions.

Come to think of it, I was born with out 'power-assist'. Fortunately God makes it available.

Thank God, as a Christian I have God's Divine 'power-assist'! And if I lose that power, well ...

God help me to keep the power on!

See A BAD BATTERY.

THIS ALARM CLOCK WILL WAKE YOU UP

Today it was back down to the mall shopping for a little clock. I thought I would try a large department store. As I walked in, I asked myself "where would I be if I were a travel alarm?"

It proved to be a senseless question

I wandered the aisles and up and down the escalators looking for a travel alarm clock. Now where would the clock department be? After about thirty minutes of wandering around in the store I found a cute salesperson and asked her where they had their travel alarms. She smiled and said over in the bedding department and downstairs in the electronics department. I thought bedding, it seemed a little odd, nevertheless I hiked over to bedding and looked and looked; sheets and blankets they had but no travel alarms.


Then I walked over to the escalator and glided down to the first floor and found a salesperson and asked where the electronics department was and she nodded her head toward the east. Heading east I found electronics and searched the entire department. I found the electronics salesperson and asked him where the travel alarms were. Alarm clocks? I think they're upstairs near the bath section". Bath section, now that figures, that's where I would keep my travel alarms. So back up the escalator I went and took a long hike to the bath section and again no travel alarms.

Now I'm biting my lip, I'm determined to get that clock. It's now a quest!

Wandering around I found the same sales person that started me off and asked again where the travel alarms might be.

Cynically, I suggested that the travel alarm clocks may be in the lingerie department. She looked at me thoughtfully and said, "No, I don't think they would be there." I think they're in the bedding area over near that wall. I replied that I couldn't find them there. "Here" she said, "I'll show you." We were well on our way to bedding when she asked another salesperson who said that the travel alarm clocks were in the kitchen department. And we switched courses and ultimately found travel alarms in the home furnishings department.

I bought one with a loud alarm. Made in China! And by now I was hungry enough to eat it ... but I'm not into Chinese food.

I noticed, in very small print on the bottom of the face of my new alarm clock is a warning!

"WARNING: THIS ALARM CLOCK WILL WAKE YOU UP"

What a pleasant surprise. True story.

THE STORY CROSSES TELL

The other day as I was driving past Tijuana's cemetery for the poor, I saw this view... so I pulled over and took a few photos. It was late in the afternoon and the shadows were just right. What I saw was truly 'the valley of death'. Often I have used this place as a backdrop for teaching our American teens about values. A simple lesson ... ultimately all of our stuff will end up in the hill to the left which is the dump, the Tijuana dump, and our bodies, well, they'll end up in a grave somewhere. Indeed, gravity will claim it's own. What a spot for teaching about life, values, and what's really important, namely people ... people are eternal, we should never forget that. Acres and acres of people that were but are no more!

How many of these people who were laid to rest here ever knew what the cross above them stood for.

An eternal mistake!

I think of the potential of all of those little crosses. Count them, hundreds of them, each unique yet all made common by poverty and death.

As I mused, looking over the crosses in this dry, weedy and trash-filled cemetery, I asked myself, "how much good could have been done had these people lived?" It's possible the world could have been changed by even one of these had they lived to their potential.

Let's look at these crosses from another angle; we can't escape seeing the potential for good in this graveyard for the poor. I guess that's a strange thing to say, but think about it. Is there good in death?

The truth is, because of these deaths, many gang fights never occurred. People were never murdered, never raped, never robbed. Hundreds of fatherless or motherless children were never born.

The surrounding community of Fausto is filled with the living ... and is plagued with drugs and violence of all kinds, the same things that populated this cemetery. Innocent little kids, many of them fatherless, growing up to become the same dark community.

In this valley of death I don't like to think about the unseen ... the spiritual side of this cemetery, or any cemetery. The many that blindly fell over the side of the living and dropped into eternity without knowing God; without knowing their destiny. Leaving life alone, and with nothing, absolutely nothing!

Never knowing that the cross above them was intended by God to save them before death not post them after death.