FIVE DOGS AND A MAN

I've seen some dumb things in my life, this must fit into the top five. A few days ago I drove slowly past a man taking five dogs for a walk. Five very different dogs. He was actually trying to take all five dogs, each with a leash, on one walk. Not one of the dogs seemed to be a follower.

Watching this canine circus was worth slowing down.

Here was a guy actually trying to walk these dogs of different sizes and agendas in one direction. You could tell the man was being pulled ahead by a large and determined lead dog, the man was stumbling a bit; the larger dog was strong and the leash tight! Now as luck would have it the last dog was a small white poodle with the longest leash. Follower he was but not a willing follower! The poor little thing was being dragged along at the lead dog's speed. The other three dogs were busy with their own agendas excitedly sniffing and peeing in the bushes. As I watched in my rear view mirror, the poor man was being engulfed in a web of intertwining leashes. Each leash teaching a different lesson.

Up until that time I thought herding cats was the impossible task.

DON'T WORRY PAPA, I WON'T DIE

Both father and mother were hugging and kissing little Maribel before she was wheeled into the Operating Room. As she was being prepared to go in, they saw a young man being wheeled out; his face was covered. He died during surgery and he was the doctor's first patient that morning; Maribel was next. When Maribel and her mother and father saw the corpse being wheeled out with his face covered, her father broke down in tears. Maribel the was next surgery, and the little girl was due for a critical six-hour operation.

Even though she was a little scared, Maribel looked at her father and said "Don't cry Papa, I won't die, I promise you I'll wake up. You can look in my eyes when I come out, they'll be open, I'll be awake, I promise you ... don't cry!"

With that she was wheeled into surgery.

Hortensia visited her today in Intensive Care where Maribel told her the whole story. She even asked her father to read her little "Yellow Book," a book of kids devotionals that Hortensia gave her in the Thursday Bible Studies.

Hortensia met the doctors too. They told her how thrilled they were that things went so well. Her heart is still on the wrong side but they hooked up vessels and veins and rearranged things so that she will be able to walk to school and even run. She won't have to ride her mother piggy-back any more!

Praise God, the doctors, and all of you who prayed!

We're happy too. The Doctors told Hortensia that the Hospital cost and the doctors fee would have run the family about $50,000.00 and the intensive care room she is in is costing about $3,000.00 a day! Money this family couldn't possibly pay.

We invested about $1,000.00 in keeping her Government Social Security monthly insurance payments up, as her father was out of work. The gamble paid off big time!

Maribel now has a new life!

PROMISES, PROMISES, ALWAYS PROMISES

In my ministry through the years I've met more than my share of promisors, and believed their promises ... I'm not looking for promises anymore but performance. May I meet more Christian performers!


My word is the foundation stone of my character as your word, as a believer, is the foundation stone of your character.

I learned early in life, a lesson from my non-believing father.

He was from Germany. He was aristocracy. He was a German Baron. He was a man! The word "von" is a title; and in a name, means aristocracy. He was trained as a youth to be a "gentleman."

One day I remember him complaining at having to sign for something in the bank. "Why can't they simply take my word for it?," he asked me. "In Germany we had a gentleman's agreement, we would give our word and shake hands on it. If it was ten dollars or fifty thousand dollars, it was the same. Our word was our word!"

I never forgot that.

He was not a Christian, but he was radical about his word. I appreciated that. He had an integrity about him.

He didn't make excuses, because he didn't have to ... he kept his word. He taught me that reasons were OK ... but excuses were unacceptable!

We would assume that if some in the secular world held such high standards, why those of us calling ourselves Christians wouldn't hold ourselves to the same or higher standards.

As the Scripture says; "Let your yes be yes and your no be no." Simple as that! (But then again, that's only Scripture.)

Solution? Think before putting mouth in gear!

Disappointments come as the result of unrealistic expectations. It's a shame that too often we find ourselves disappointed by believing our brother's promises.

"Let your yes be yes and your no be no!" Matt 5:37

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS LIGHT WENT OUT

Wednesday night, after our activity, little ten year old Mida came to me with her cute smile and presented me with a copy of her school grades. All A's and B's! I give the kids that do well in school a little reward, so I pulled out a few dollars and handed her the reward, her smile widened; she said "thank you" and rushed out in the darkness to her home to show her mom. It was just a part of the cold nights activity and I didn't think much about it, but that was the last time I would ever see Mida again.

Yesterday, Christmas Eve night, I met with the family around her little table top memorial.

Friday night the family and Kevin their cousin and his mother jumped into their old beat up car and headed south for Christmas with their relatives. About an hour into the trip the front tire blew out and the car ended up rolling down the canyon. Miraculously no one was hurt bad, but where was little Mida? The accident had taken her life.

When a child dies it's so sad. When a child dies near Christmas it makes the picture even darker. Family devastated.

All we could do is express our condolences.

We found the family hadn't eaten for a while, they were tired and were just going to go to bed. I had enough in my pocket to buy them all a chicken dinner, which they were happy to have.

Every Christmas Eve we cruse the cold black night through Tijuana's back country simply looking for opportunities to share, sometimes candy, sometimes blankets, in some places toys and in other places ... well, chicken dinner!

I'M JUST A LOSER

For the past few weeks, people by the thousands walked through the little forests of trees that suddenly appeared December. Everyone looking for that special tree that would do justice to the families Christmas. The special tree selected would be taken home, placed in the proper spot and adorned with shiny ornaments of color and love. Indeed, for a short time, an exalted part of the family.

But look at the difference a day makes.

On Christmas day I stopped by several of these little forests and looked at the remaining trees. A lonely spot indeed. I stood there giving it some thought.

These were the misfits, the rejected! These are the trees that stood there day after day hoping to be chosen. They tried but somehow they didn't make the grade. Didn't sell. There will be no burst of colorful glory for them. They lay unneeded and unloved.

Even though I'm far from a 'treehugger' and trees have no emotion; I couldn't help but feel sorry for the losers.

Trees are one thing; people quite another! God feels for the losers and rejected ... that's where His people enter the picture.

We might wrap that lesson into a New Years resolution.

THE DOCTRINE OF JESUS INCOGNITO

I drove to the market so that I could quickly pick up a few things for my missionary friends in Venezuela. They love tortillas, sauce and magazines. I was leaving for Venezuela the next day. I also had to speak to some teachers in Mexico that afternoon. (My subject was God's Love (I Cor 13) So I had a lot on my plate and time was ticking.

I pulled into the parking lot, parked, and quickly entered the market; in no time I was back out walking across the lot back to my car ... on a collision course with an older man on his walker. He was short, balding and had a sweet face.

The stranger stopped me. Looking up at me with a smile, "Pardon me, he said ... I'm a little tired and wondered if you could give me a ride to my house; it's just a couple of blocks down the street." He turned and pointed toward his house; the opposite direction that I was going.

Oh boy! How inconvenient! I looked at my watch and then ...

Looking at him, I did my best to explain that I really would like to help him out but that I was in hurry and going the opposite direction. I'm sorry I replied ... He interrupted and said "No problem, I'll just wait here and someone will help me out." He smiled.

I turned to head toward my car when suddenly, like a slap on the face, I got the message!

"VON! What are you doing?"

I turned again to the stranger and smiled telling him it would be "no problem; I'll take you." Of course he hesitated and said he understood I was in a hurry and didn't want to be a bother.

Well, we began walking to my car, ever so slowly! I opened the car door and got him in the seat, folded his walker up and placed that in the car.

As we drove through the parking lot he directed me to his house a short distance away. I pulled over, parked and helped him out and helped place him on his walker facing him toward his home.

He started walking, then stopped, turned around and said "Thank you so much! God Bless you" ... and gave me a wink!

I'll never forget his thanks and even more the wink he gave me! I feel to this day it was a Divine moment."

"In that you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me." Matt 25:40

Jesus Incognito.

MY OH MY, WHAT'S WRONG?

The pundits, like chickens, are cackling again. The school shooting in Connecticut this morning seems to puzzle them! Why do these things happen? Why does it seem violence is increasing? What oh what should we do?

The questions themselves tend to prove how dumb these intellectuals are ... they cant see the forest for the trees.

These media pundits might take a look at the most popular movies, most popular games, and hot Internet subjects. With too many male teens today ... prison dress is lauded, bad is good, evil is hot, skull and cross-bones a popular symbol! Killing, murder, robbing, gang rape ... just simple perverted fun! Ah, Gangdom, that's where the real men hang.

Guns? Remember, weapons are male, guns are macho! Guns kill, and killing is male.

Fantasies tend to develop into reality; evil fantasies are no different.

Isn't it apparent that the increasing evil we are ingesting will play out real-time in our society? "Apparently" not!

Fueling young disoriented minds with evil will bring evil ... (Simple logic!) and deeper than that, is the fact that most of our young people have no real purpose or honorable goal.

Speaking of evil goals. I'll bet somewhere in America there are several perverted teens making plans to top today's shootings and make a name for themselves.

God left the stage long ago ... we pretty well deserve the show we have! Pull the curtain ... next act to follow!

HEAD FIRST

We all knew Francisco. A neat little kid who always came to our big shower days and regularly attended our Bible Club. A tragic thing happened a few months ago. An accident threw him into a telephone pole head first, crushing his skull. His father took him to the Red Cross more dead than alive, where they quickly started surgery.

The Doctors told his family that while they were operating on him, he actually died twice on the table. As a result of his accident he has lost an eye, the full movement of his right arm and has a large ugly dent (depression) in his skull, where only thin skin covers his brain. Thank God for a real miracle, his mind is O.K.

Francisco is now a twenty year old. When I first saw him I couldn't recognize him until I asked him to turn his head.

His family contacted us few weeks ago to ask for help in getting a plate put into Francisco's skull. We know them to be honest and very poor. (Father goes to the cemeteries and sings for funerals getting a little money from tips.) The estimated cost of the operation at the General Hospital would run over $1,000 dollars. Very inexpensive by our standards but an impossible cost for them. Tijuana's General Hospital is inexpensive, but for years has a very bad reputation

We said we would help if they could come up with most of the money. They begged and borrowed all the money they could from friends and relatives and came up with about $600.

Today we assured them that we would help make it happen. Francisco gave me an especially tight hug for his "Christmas present."

He wants to be normal so bad.

He's a little afraid of the coming surgery and for good reason. Recently Tijuana's General Hospital has been rocked by a scandal. They have been accused of letting some of their patients die then selling their body parts to more affluent Hospitals in Mexico.

Francisco and his family would appreciate your prayers.

LATE NIGHT TIJUANA CIRCUS

Sunday night I was in Tijuana teaching the little kids at an orphanage by the beach, the teens were into a major soccer game on T.V.

Sunday was to be a long night getting back home; Alas, I never made it!

You see Sunday night, the XOLOS, a popular Tijuana football team, won the country's Championship and I was blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

The XOLOS won and the TOLUCAS lost, so what?

Well, here’s what!

Upon the XOLOS winning; every Mexican in Tijuana that had a car that ran, got in his car, rolled down the windows, packed his car with friends and beer, and headed out to the road with flags flowing ... driving nowhere, just honking horns, waving flags. People standing on the sides of the cars, on the hood and on the roof! Screaming and exchanging beers. Colorful. Noisy. (Some people were in Pajamas.)

Tijuana’s four lane roads quickly became five lane roads ... stoplights were optional ... all the cars forming a giant and real long parking lot. A cop at every corner sending everyone back around. Not only are cops crooked here but they are also incompetent.

Thousands who didn't have a car were on the streets waving their flags. And me, I just wanted to get across the border.

No one knew where they were going or apparently cared. After about an hour of this craziness and noise, I slowly cut in and worked my way to the right and close to a hotel, then darted in their driveway.

Free!

I got out of my car; tired, "old", in my dirty work clothes and wearing flip-flops, and ever so slightly "pissed-off" ... and to make matters worse, it was a classy four-star Marriott Hotel. Well, $115.00 later my car was safely parked and I was in a quiet room for the night.

I returned home this morning with a light pocketbook, better attitude and in a somewhat sane environment.

Home-alone! Ahhh ...

Merry Christmas!

Driving slowly down the narrow dirt road into Pedrigal, I pulled to a stop and the kids descended on me. They were smiling and excitedly handed me little penciled paper notes, lots of them. I stood rather puzzled looking at the notes then looking at the kids.

I've been given notes before but never this many at one time. It turns out that this is near Christmas time and the kids decided that they were going to give me their Christmas wish lists. (Two kids asked for their notes back because they forgot to put their names on their note.) Big smiles. High hopes. Great expectations!

Who gave them this idea, I don't know. Who told them I was Santa, I don't know ... I'm not dressed in red and I don't look a bit like Santa. I have an Xterra not a sled.

We aren't planning on coming to this community with our gift bus.

Truthfully I have no idea what I'm going to do with these notes (Several wanted a bike!) ... I'll have to resolve it some way.

The point is, Christmas is coming and these kids have flat nothing. These communities we serve are literally dirt poor. If the family has the money they will have a big Christmas meal. No way is it a meal like we will have. In most cases Christmas will simply be another weekday.

In our economy here in the USA, Spectrum has flat nothing too ... So it will be interesting to see how this December unfolds.

For all of us working the border, Pastor Von

AH, THANKSGIVING!

A November Thursday set aside to be appreciative of God's bountiful blessings! A table set for an abundant variety of food. Turkey (Ham for us Gentiles.) stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet-potatoes topped with marshmallows, apple-pie-ala-mode! Family and feasting and maybe a little nap to help digest our food. Setting the calories aside ... we need to focus on gratitude; our gratitude for all He has given us.

It may surprise us, but thankfulness and gratitude are learned attitudes; we are not by nature thankful.

Mexico has no Thanksgiving Day set aside to give thanks, However god knows they have enough holidays ... but no Thanksgiving.

All of us work Thanksgiving day with our "thankless" people. Thanks to many of you we are able provide essential food for the lines of hungry people. And they are hungry! (God blesses those who feed the poor.)

Sometimes I think that our people have so little simply because they show so little gratitude to God. God is an image ... an icon to most.

My hope and prayer is that you might make this Thanksgiving a special day in your home, and that God may be more important than turkey, ham or even family.

He Blesses the thankful!

South, across the border In our world this Thursday will simply be another Thursday ... meal of the day? Beans, rice and cactus!

UNWANTED HURTS SO BAD

In almost fifty years working in Tijuana I've worked with many orphanages. (I'm still working with the kids in four orphanages.) Orphanage's full problem kids. Some are just dumped there because they are unwanted, or an extra mouth to feed and maybe a problem kid too. Others children are brought by mothers and grandmothers because they can't give them food, clothing and schooling.

I've seen kids as they come to the orphanage with their little bag of clothing. They stand silent and scared looking at the institution they are about to enter, while their mother talks softly with the Director. She is soon walking down the street looking for a taxi to ride home. 

Sometimes it's a heartbreaking surprise when a little kid is given to an orphanage. He wasn't told. Now he's there, being given to an institution. I've seen the kids cry and sometimes scream as their mother turns her back and walks out of their life. It's a hurt most of us have never had and leaves a permanent scar.

Unwanted hurts so bad.

Most of these kids have heartbreaking stories ... some with stories that would make your blood run cold!

An orphanage is an institution, it's not a family, and it's actually not a solution. Some of these kids, like Manuel (15) I talked with yesterday have been in orphanages all of their lives. Manuel has never known a family. To be honest, he has never known love. He was one of thousands of problem kids cruising Tijuana ... Manuel is on his last orphanage.

Most kids in orphanages are returned to the streets or their dysfunctional families at age 16, 17 or 18. And with Tijuana's economy at it's lowest there isn't much hope for a job.

In most cases the Step Father does not accept his wife's teenage son returning home from the orphanage. One more mouth to feed. Fights break out. The boy leaves home and hits the street.

I remember having a young man tell me once, "I'm going to live fast, die young and make a good looking corpse."  High until I die!

If you are a family; impress upon your children how fortunate they are to have two people who love them and care for them. A fact, too often forgotten; kids must be taught to be thankful, and to appreciate what they have, and to respect you as parents.

I caught the photo above as I watched a kid, alone, in a Tijuana orphanage. He was standing quietly looking up ... I have no idea what he was thinking, maybe he was praying.

And maybe I don't want to know what he was thinking.

CURSED SOULS

Take God out of the equation and you have the world I work in, a darkened world of lost souls. Thousands of them.

This afternoon I asked a little eleven-year old boy where his father worked. His reply, "I don't have a father."

Another lost kid.

When God goes it seems the "family" is the first to fall.

A first indicator of the havoc to follow. Without God Holy marriage gives way to bed partners. Sex falls into a satisfying irresponsible pleasure ... recreation rather than purposeful procreation.

Sex gone wrong.

God created the family. He created the family concept. Mature father, mature mother as a unit creating new lives to mentor.

Painful fact. As family goes, the society goes. Society then fractures into a mosaic of pain and hurt ... anger and hate. Disoriented people ... poor lost souls breeding more lost souls.

Sadly, I saw it all again; I heard it all again ... last night in the tear stained eyes of an old woman.

OLD BIBLES NEVER DIE

Being a Youth Pastor to several hundred teens proved an enjoyable challenge. I was a serious Bible teacher with a belief that God and His Word could change lives. The three or four hundred kids sitting in front of me liked our Bible studies and many were serious about their faith but they had a tendency to avoid serious Scripture. So I decided to directly challenge the problem ... I wanted a lesson with an impact. An illustration they could actually see.

In our Church library we had a stack of old hymnals and old Bibles. Actually no one knew what to do with them. I took one of the old beat up Bibles and decided to teach from it at our next Bible study. I had a reason to use an old Bible.

At our next Bible study I opened this old Bible to Luke chapter six and read a little of the Beatitudes; most of us like the Beatitudes, they're comfortable ... then I started reading several of the verses that followed the Beatitudes, These are very uncomfortable verses ... illogical verses. I took one verse that was a most uncomfortable verse and carefully tore the verse from the old Bible, crumpled it up and threw it to the floor.

You could hear a collective gasp from the kids. Their teacher actually desecrating God's Holy Bible?

I kept going, finding another illogical verse: (and there are many.) Give to everyone that asks me for something? I did the same with that verse as I did with the other. In fact that night I tore several verses from that old Bible and threw them to the floor.

What's the difference, I asked my audience ... If I don't intend to do what the verse says or at least struggle with it, isn't it the same thing? These are commands, are they not?

Our Lord seems to want Christians to be a radically different people. If we obey ALL of His Word indeed we will be different people.

I could see that lesson made an impact. A lesson many of us need to learn and put into practice.

All of us Christians have a growing tendency to pick and choose. We have our favorite comforting Scriptures; we also have the Scripture we prefer to pass over.

In Tijuana Mexico they have a saying. "What I don't see doesn't exist." Look away and it's not there.

A comfortable mind set indeed ... however, anything but a Christian perspective. We're called to face the truth and do it!

In the little book of James, we're called to "do" the Word, not just hear it.

THANKS I DON'T DESERVE

A handsome boy with a big smile.

Thirteen-year old David and his mother were flying off to Mexico City in the afternoon.

David came over to me and gave me a big hug; he looked up at me smiling and said, "Thank you von." His mother gave me a hug too.

David's first flight.

As a young boy David was run over by a truck. His mid section and five vertebra crushed. He lost a lot of skin on his left side and his genitals made useless. He uses a catheter through his abdomen into his bladder, which often gets infected. David walks with a limp. They saved his life but he's messed up.

A top urologist on a visit to Tijuana took an interest in David and his unusual case, and offered to do what he could for the boy at no cost, but due to technicalities, he would have to have the work done in Mexico City where the surgeon practices.

We know the family and they are extremely poor with no chance to get the money. The doctor said David needed surgery as soon as possible.

Three days by bus to Mexico City was about as expensive as flying, so due to David's condition we chose to fly him along with his mother to Mexico City. Fortunately he has an aunt living in the City.

The day before, David was riding along with me, and I asked him what he expected the doctor could do. He thought and then replied rather softly. "I just want to be normal."

Sometimes I feel guilty receiving the hugs and the thanks! Thanks to our Lord and the one who made this trip possible.

Now it's up to God and the surgeon.

I'M A DIRTY BOY

Often death comes suddenly and interrupts your plans according to how close you are to the deceased. Cecilia, fifty years old, died yesterday. Hortensia called me early and said that Oskar, Cecillia's youngest son, hadn't been told and ... would I talk to him? Oskar, a thin, very quiet, ten year old is the black sheep of the family and was neglected in all of this. Cecilia, had been bedfast at her sister's house, laying in bed, depressed to the point she wouldn't talk or look at anyone including Oskar. He loved her and occasionally brought her food by working little jobs ... now she's gone.

Oskar doesn't know who his father was. His relatives aren't on speaking terms with him, they give him food and a bed (in silence.) We help him with food and school.

I met Oskar when he was five. Since then he would come in to take a shower when we were in his area. I noticed him because he always looked stoic; quiet and never smiled. Some years later I was working the showers and shampooing a couple of boys when I felt a hug around my legs from the back. I turned around and here was little Oskar hugging me and looking up at me; still without a smile. Later he learned to smile a little and interact with kids his age. Oskar has lots of scars inside. A hurting boy.

Would I talk with him? I had a lot of other things planned, but when Hortensia called I felt Oskar and his situation were worth rearranging my day. I'm sure you would agree.

So I left for Tijuana.

When I walked into the dirt yard of his Aunt's house Oskar was standing near the clothesline gazing toward the dump and large cemetery for the poor. I called him and he walked over. I noticed his T-shirt; it read in English, "I'm a dirty boy!" Only knowing Spanish, he wasn't aware of the message.

I had him sit in my car and we talked about his mother's death for about a half hour. He said nothing. He just looked at me listening to every word. His eyes started tearing up as he took it all in. I asked; he had never seen a dead person, or a casket, or been to a mortuary so I talked about what it was going to be like seeing his mother's body ... I talked about God and about death and eternity. He just listened occasionally brushing back tears. His eyes never left my face.

Then it was time for a hamburger and some French fries. I took him down to get a bite to eat. The mood was, well, "stoic." We let him off back at his uncle's house.

Oskar's at the mortuary in Tijuana tonight, seeing his mother for the last time ... and Hortensia, she will be there to hug him. (Spectrum bought a large funeral flower wreath; he asked for this message to be placed on the wreath. "To my mother with love, Oskar."

Just one little twisted life in thousands. Tonight he's hurting bad. Indeed, "Life ain't fair."

That was several years ago, Oskar's a good looking teen now. Thanks to Spectrum, he's going to school, and involved in Church and has a nice looking girlfriend.

Scars? He carries many.

THE MARRAGE OF A FOOL

I saw on the corner a man married to a prostitute. It was getting dark and he was sitting in the dim light with his new wife, holding her close and caressing her ... for he loved her dearly.

She wasn't much to look at but you could see he loved her. I watched him as he fondled her and kissed her ... drinking in her beauty. She was dressed in a small and simple crumpled brown bag. Sr. Baracho (Mr.Drunk) and senora Cuguama (Miz Alcohol) after a long affair, were married early in life.

La Cuguama is his charming wife; his love, his mistress. She encourages him and makes him feel like a man! She gives him his strength and courage and makes him feel important! She listens to him and makes him happy ... for the short time he is under her spell. Senora Cuguama makes him sleep and then, when he falls asleep, she quietly steals away only to become another man's lover. He is hers but she isn't his, for she is now as she has always been ... a fickle little prostitute wrapped in a paper bag!

A cheap adulteress ... for any man's use.

Poor ... very poor ... Sr. Baracho!

Spanish: Cuguama or Turtle, is a large bottle of beer, and Baracho means drunk.

JESUS DIED YESTERDAY

They say it was about 5:00 PM. Death isn't new to any of us; in fact, the ultimate statistic is one out of one dies. But Jesus was only ten years old. Last Thursday at our work-day, Clementina his grandmother, approached us and meekly asked if we could help her grandson who was dying of cancer.

The story was as hopeless as any I have heard. The boy's father had died several months ago. Now Jesus was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The hospitals and doctors had been stalling any help for eight months and by now her medical bill was more than two thousand U.S. dollars. Because of this, the hospital and doctors were reluctant to treat him further. He was now in pain and needed help.

Could I possibly visit Jesus? When we finished our work in Pan America, I seated grandma and Hortensia in my van, then loaded it with four American teens and headed down the long road to Jesus' house. Grandma was giving the directions. After driving for about fifteen minutes, we stopped at a dead end. Grandma got out and crossed the trashy gully to the house to see if Jesus and Alejandra, his mother, were home. She quickly returned to the van and announced that they had taken the boy to the hospital; could we go see him there?

We headed up and over the hill through an urban maze of crisscross streets until we finally came to the hospital. Jesus was in a room on the third floor. I quietly entered the room. He was staring at the ceiling. His mother sat looking at him laying there with an IV in his arm receiving morphine.

I went over to his bed, smiled and asked him how he was doing. I can't forget his eyes as he looked at me and studied my face. I'm sure he was surprised to see an old gringo standing next to him. He managed a smile and said he was feeling a little better, his legs weren't hurting him now. His eyes never left me.

His mother said the morphine would last until Monday.

I talked a little more and his mother requested we talk outside in the hallway. That's where she told me that the doctor had just told her that her son had only days to live. Grandma was sitting on the bench on the hallway holding her head in her hands; she didn't move.

The American teens wanted to see him and she graciously gave permission. I pressed some money in Alejandra's hands to help with his food and care. As we left, Grandma was patiently sitting on the sidewalk with Jesus' little five-year-old brother waiting for Jesus and his mother to come out and go home.

It was morning, a few days later, that I got the news. Little Jesus had died. I also heard that mother, grandmother and extended family couldn't raise enough money to bury the child.

In Mexico, if you don't have enough money to pay for the funeral you don't get the deceased. Tomorrow Spectrum will pay the needed $500 to provide for Jesus' burial. Today, Jesus is just another statistic. His body lies beneath a little wooden cross, one of hundreds of little crosses in what's known only as Cemetery Three.

A little sparrow fell Tuesday; isn't it comforting that our Lord saw it fall.

This true story played out several years ago. This is what we do. Thanks for helping us do it.

OLD BIKE, NEEDS NEW HOME

Several weeks ago someone donated us a small very used bike. No shinny paint job, just the essentials; seat, handle-bars, two wheels and peddles. It had been sitting in our shed for a while. (Thanks to whoever donated it!)

I looked at it lying there and decided to load it with the rest of the stuff in the back of my SUV. It sat proudly on top of all the other stuff.

Yep, this bike needed a home.

As I got near to one of our locations; driving slowly along the dirt road; a load of kids spotted my car and started running toward me surrounding the car. Dirty, dusty, barefoot kids all with wide smiles.

Excitement! Energy! Hey, what's the big deal? ... just an old man and his car.

I always carry a sack of miniature chocolates and they know it ... now when I open the back of my SUV it's like a combined toy-store and supermarket.

They instantly survey everything!

One boy spotted the bike! Literally jumping up and down. "Hey von, can I have the bike? Can I? My brother and I will share it. Can we have the bike?"

Well, I'll make the story short. They got the bike, and were they two happy little dudes.

It didn't matter that bike was old and used; it was theirs now. Now they had a real bike!

I guess, the bike had them.

As I got into the car to leave, the oldest boy, on his new bike

Skidded to a stop by my window and flashed me a big smile ... thank you von.

I took this shot several days later ... the kids were clean and in their school clothes ... I just wanted to show you that smile, it's still there.

SARDINES IN A FOUR WHEEL CAN

I have a small Nissan Xterra SUV. Not the greatest BUT it gets me where I want to go and more than that, it gets me back.

I'm sure this is due to your prayers!

I really don't know what you pack in back of your SUV, but mine is always full of the weirdest things. Jugs of water, spare battery, towels, PVC tubes, games, clothing along with candy and colas.

All of that is on the bottom squashed by a load of kids!

My car was built to seat five people in comfort. But I often drive the bumpy dirt roads with eleven adults and kids packed in the car. Now that's a close fit!