ONE DARK NIGHT

I've been thinking of the Titanic lately. A long ago tragedy. Where everyone aboard thought their ship, the Titanic, was invincible, after all it was the biggest and best ship in the world.

Invincible It wasn't.

The last voyage. The proud Captain wouldn't listen to the warnings of the disaster ahead. He took no corrective action. A fatal indecision! (The Captain ordered the turn to avoid collision 15 seconds before colliding.) Too late.

Lessons we must learn.

No ship is invincible. No Country is invincible! No man is invincible ... sorry Superman!

It ALL went down. They ALL went down. The Captain brought them all down with himself.

The very rich went down with the poor.

The good went down with the bad.

The strong went down with the weak.

The innocent went down with the guilty.

The celebrities went down with the nobodies.

Only a pathetic few were saved.

SYMPTOMATIC RELIEF

I've heard this term since I've been a child. I think I heard it first on radio. This pill, that ointment will quickly bring relief to our symptoms ... headache, sinus congestion, burning, itching, whatever.  Ah, "symptomatic-relief."

It seems we in America have become obsessed with relieving our "symptoms".  Pharmacies and drug stores continue to add "over-the-counter" medicines so we can deal with "symptoms." Now for cures or solutions we are told to go to the Doctor. To the M.D. to get an RX.

Politicians are elected to deal with social problems by finding solutions or cures ... but politicians, being what they are, would rather deal with easy, cheap and politically correct, "symptoms" than difficult and costly "Solutions." Laws are written and re-written dealing with our social ills. Politicians will consistently kick the problem down the road (A game we kids called "Kick-The-Can".) It seems today no one will dare define the real problems, consequently no solution is offered ... back to "symptomatic relief" from a cheap sugar coated bill.

It's plain to see that Uncle Sam is old and sick. The America that was, has noticeably declined. Biblical influence has declined radically; character and moral ethics have followed resulting in a stinking immoral cesspool of problems. The Church as a whole is diluted and many are deluded.

The symptoms of immorality, anger, hate, violence keep building. Lets face it our "Symptomatic-relief-pills" aren't working any more, and because Christ is the solution, the political price is too high ... much too costly. Christ, God and the Bible form a trinity that is the sure cure, but not politically acceptable ... on to the search for more sugar coated pills to alleviate the ugly pain of our diseased society.

DRUGS, I HATE THEM!!!

Drugs permeate my world. When my people can't take it anymore, They don't turn to the Lord, they turn to drugs. How I hate Satan and his drugs. Drugs can take a man down so fast. Drugs can change a loving mother to a full on selfish greedy user.

Lupe used to be one of the kids I counted on, he was a dedicated Christian and bilingual. What potential. He was accepted by the street kids which gave me an in to the gangs ... the "malandros" or (wild) feral teens. Those were days I saw a lot, I learned a lot.

Lupe started spending too much time with his friends and he caught the disease himself. He was ashamed to level with me. For months he became the great pretender ... He is still the great pretender believing his own lies.

Since my time with Lupe, I've learned a lot. First fact, you can't trust a user. Mother's, Father's, teens using drugs will do anything and say anything to get your favor and your money. We have an alcoholic mother with three sweet kids, we can't give her money for her kids ... she will use it! With a drug user, and alcohol is a drug, drugs come first, your children come second. She will drink the money up and worry about the kids later.

Years ago, on a cold Christmas Eve, we planned on giving the children of one poor family several nice new warm blankets, before we entered the shack several neighbors took us aside and explained that we had better use caution, Father was a user and would probably sell the blankets to get drugs. He had his three older girls out prostituting for his drug habit. We gave the kids their blankets but we first cut the blankets up so they wouldn't be sale-able. And walked out of their little house of hell. To this day it's a house of hell !

A user lives day and night in a dark hole of guilt and shame controlled by an addictive substance ... the bottle, pills, syringe, spray paint, or glue bag of fumes.. Drugs, Satan's made to order elixir, indeed a high; but a very temporary high followed by a permanent low. Under the influence you happily slip your hands into Satan's hand-cuffs. You are no longer your own.

THE BANANA FAMILY

Hortensia has two gifts, one is easy conversation and the other; a gift for sensing poverty. Yesterday she spotted a family outside the big CaliMax market selling old bananas and tomatoes. They bought them at the big fruit market for a very low price and taxied them to this location to sell. The over ripe items, they sold very cheap, but made very small profit considering paying for the taxi.

She began talking with the mother and father. It seems they had come up to Tijuana from south Mexico to find a better life. Their three children crossed the street to meet Hortensia. Mom and Hortensia continued with the conversation ... it seems the family had put up their little shack on some vacant property along with sixteen other families. We would call it homesteading. This worked O. K for a few weeks. BUT ... the situation got bad.

The owners of the property came and gave them all two days to pack up and leave ... then they put up a barbed wire fence around the property. Everything, everyone, out.

Two big problems, they had no place to go, no relatives in Tijuana also they have to move by taxi ... see the photos.

The next day we would be working in Barrio Invasion. So Hortensia invited the family to join us in the big barrio day, and even helped find them a new location where they will reassemble their shack ... and gave them a little of your money to get them started again. Just another, honestly hurting family.

Father is grateful yet he has his pride, he really doesn't like to be given charity!

We will follow up on them to see how we can help.

FIGHTING OVER AN EGG

I was on the phone tonight with Hortensia, she was giving me a rundown on the day, when our phone call was interrupted by a family in barrio Pedrigal. "Hortensia, we have no food." Yes, it's been a bad day for this family of six. No food; and in the afternoon they were actually fighting over one egg. One egg. The neighbors told us of the quarreling. Well, they somehow got hold of some rice and a little salt, put it together with the one scrambled egg. A meal for six?

Tonight the call came again, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing ... hence the second call for food from the same family. Dad's out of work, Mom is angry with a hot temper.

All this trouble comes as a consequence of inept parents and their poor decisions. But what about the kids? What do we do about the hungry kids?

It's 8:30pm. Hortensia will grab a cab and take food over to this family, which includes a little two year old girl and her fourteen year old mother ... along with two teen boys.

The poverty right across the border is embarrassing. Like America, Mexico has plenty of potential, and money but it's in the pockets of the corrupt politicians.

Tomorrow I'll take some prized "Luxury" food items across the border to barrio Gardenia ... Foods that are far too expensive for them. Peanut-butter, wienies, turkey-ham, mayonnaise, catchup. Tomorrow we will have a drawing for about forty mothers with these items for prizes. Oh yes, and prizes for many of their eighty kids.

It will be a joyful day because we can help over forty very poor families. They look forward to this HAPPY DAY once a month. Each week we're at one of our four barrios with this Happy Occasion. Thanks for making it possible.

Thanks for your prayers and help.

FOUR KNIVES

These aren't just four knives, they're not knives at all ... you don't peel apples with these. A switch-blade is a small quick and quiet weapon. At different times different kids have given me these stickers because they weren't going to use them anymore. PTL! Each with a story.


One afternoon I was in the city and on a little rather isolated hill there were three partially burned out houses. A handful of street kids using drugs adopted the area and lived in the empty parts of these old houses. I called this area "Campamento Cemento. (Camp Cement) These street kids would be huffing glue in a plastic sack and it sustained a 24/7 mellow high. A high on cheap rubber cement.

I was up there one evening when a kid about sixteen came up to me "Hey, Von, would you check my back, I got hit last night." And he pulled his shirt up. I didn't really know what he meant or what to look for. The boy was pretty well stoned. "What do I look for?" I asked him. "Last night a guy hit me with a blade." I looked around his back and found where he had been stabbed by a switch blade. A little slit in his skin, less than an inch wide. Fortunately the wound didn't go deep enough to tap into his lung. I told him this was serious and that I would take him to the hospital. "No way, he said!" "Well then, I'll bring our doctor up to check it out." "NO! NO DOCTOR!!! You do it!!!" All the kids were standing around watching the show.

I always carry a small tube of antibiotics with me, along with a topical fungicide. So I moved the slit in his skin around until I found the puncture in his muscle, then I squirted the antibiotic cream deep into the hole. I put some cream on the skin slit and that was it. He was stoned but managed to thank me for "fixing him."

Yeah, I hate these switch-blades ... at least these four blades aren't being used any more.

PRAY!!!

Look! Look!!! There's the harvest! Don't you see it? It's there for the taking ... But, where are the harvesters? They're nowhere to be found. "Pray to the Lord of the harvest, that He might send harvesters." (Matthew 9:38) Indeed, it's 2015 and still the nagging question, where are the harvesters?

Last Sunday, a lady about my age was frustrated, "I can't do anything anymore. I'm getting old" ... My sister you can do plenty by praying for harvesters.

A thin handsome boy about 14 was buzzing around me like a fly ... He looked at me smiling. In my conversation I asked him where his father was, he looked down and shrugged his shoulders ... "I have no father." I asked him about his mom ... same shrug; "I don't know where she is." I hugged him and said "I'll make you my son, OK?" He looked up and smiled again.

Several years ago I was spending Christmas Eve at an orphanage in the mountains outside of Tijuana. Watching the kids dig into their presents ... I asked a black teenage boy sitting silently thinking, "Roberto, if I could give you any gift in the world ... what would you want?" He replied rather quickly ... "I want to meet my father." I found myself in a rather awkward position. I knew what he didn't know, Roberto was found one night as a newborn infant on some beach near Tijuana.

Things like that hurt me and to tell the truth, at times I feel rather lonely ... who else gives a damn and why should I? This painful question nags me ... Excuse the old age pity-party! "Who else gives a damn and why should I?" I could be in Calcutta India, or Haiti or Manila in the Philippines ... and I would echo the same question. Where in the world are these harvesters? ... and where are the prayer warriors praying for harvesters?

I shouldn't feel lonely, many of you do care, you do pray for me and support me. You do care and I'll try my best at being a father or grandpa to these hundreds of kids.

MY SECRET TO LOSING WEIGHT

The secret to how I keep so trim. True it takes a little discipline. In fact on most days I eat only breakfast and lunch, on two days I eat only breakfast. I noted that prisoners of war working many hours a day existed on only one meal a day. Conclusion? We don't need much food. Many thousands of people go to bed hungry night after night, a few nights of hunger hasn't hurt me. So my stomach shrinks a bit, that's O.K.

The secret is a black and white photo; a photo I treasure. A photo I found years ago; the most impacting photo I have ever seen. This photo like none other orients me to reality! For years I've had this photo on my refrigerator and in my bedroom. The more I study it the more impressed I get as to the margin between us haves and the have nots. Indeed I have actually visited places where people exist between a thin line of hope and fat vultures. Places where every day existence competes with death. It's true, there are those places.

I've traveled the world; I've seen and smelled poverty first hand; in Africa, India, Indonesia, Philippines and other countries in South America ... even here in Tijuana. Sights, sounds and smells I find hard to experience again.

This photo is, in part, why I changed my life-style. What others do with their lives is not my business, but pardon me; I'll continue speaking for the poor.

I'm not going to be wise and select only what I consider to be the righteous poor; a true widow and her seven kids, but like Jesus, I will demonstrate grace and compassion by giving to the foolish poor, the deserving poor living out their painful consequences of sin. (Jesus and the adulteress woman, Jn.8:5)

The little child in the photo in a short time went to his true father In heaven, he's joyfully there where there is no hunger ... the buzzard waited patiently, had his meal and flew away full.

I can't afford the luxury of forgetting that photo and the thousands of other hungry children ... born to die hungry.

Second helping? No thanks!

HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY NEWS!!!

I figured that if I had a Happy blog ... a positive blog ... one that would turn endorphins on ... more people would tend to read my blog. A positive blog! La-La Land stuff. I heard a simple little chorus one time, with two simple words. “Happy, Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy, Joy!” The theme song of La-La Land ... and their resident president, Sponge Bob.

I realize I don't resonate with my La-La Land friends. As far as I know La-La Land isn't open to realist's. And worse yet, I'm not politically correct. The high fence around La-La Land prevents them from seeing the ugly truth of poverty, and their sounds of laughter and singing muffle the cry of the hurting. In the First Church of La-La land they too praise god ... better yet, the money all stays in the bank ... the first federal of La-La Land!

Yep, I'm a realist ... born in a real world in the worst of years (1929). Born dirt poor. Yet I'm not a pessimist, but from what I see and hear it's not easy to become an optimist. It's not a matter of endorphins, it's a simply a matter of truthful reality.

I've traveled the world; I've seen and smelled poverty first hand; in Africa, India, Philippines and other countries in South America. Sights, sounds and smells I find hard to experience again.

As I said, I'm a realist. I know I can't do everything any more than I can be everywhere; however, I can do something somewhere for someone, and my somewhere is Tijuana, a few miles down the road from where I live.

Forgive me for expressing my passion for the poor. They can't speak for themselves so I'll do it for them. Forgive me if my reality offends you.

NORTH OF THE FENCE

Our two worlds are so far apart! Living on the North side of the fence we don't know how hungry they are in rural Tijuana. I thought that this might bring reality into view.

If you think our dollar is shrinking, and it is. In Mexico where ten pesos to the dollar was the going exchange; now it's fifteen pesos to the dollar. Their peso is shrinking even faster than our dollar.

Yesterday Alex and Brandon were sent up to the little store to buy breakfast for the family of six. Mother gave them a few pesos. "Don't go to the close store where the eggs are 4 pesos; go to the one up the hill where the eggs are only 3 pesos each." The boys were to buy three eggs, two wieners and a few tortillas.

Breakfast: Chop the wieners up and add them to the scrambled eggs. Presto! Breakfast for six! For six??

Can you imagine buying one egg at a time, or just one wiener or only three tortillas, but that's quite common among our people. You simply buy what you can afford. Can't stock up as there is no refrigeration.

Thanksgiving for most Americans is eight months away, but for those of us who are aware of our blessings; we must thank the Lord every day for His blessings ... thank you, Lord, for a box of one dozen eggs!

MY FLOWERS NOW?

Many of you who have read my blogs and understand the nature of my ministry, realize my small four-wheel drive SUV is essential to the ministry. We go to the needy (they don't come to us.) We work where the needs are. We are, (as in most ministries,) dependent on wheels.

The other day I took my Nissan Xterra (SUV) in to be serviced. Fast. Simple. Inexpensive! Things were fine UNTIL they lifted up the car up and looked underneath at the rear frame, I learned a lot. The mechanic said..."This car was in an accident before you bought it ... and it isn't safe to drive!!!" I went down to look at; he was right ... The 120.000 miles it has are hard miles. Oh boy more expenses ... and now a rental car!!!

I sought counsel from several of my supporters, and with one accord. "Von, change vehicles. Get an SUV that's younger and has less miles." They said that they would like to see me in a more dependable car. Well, I can't argue about that ... although, I'm content to continue with the old one and see who out-lives-who.

Having friends check out SUVs ... it looks as if a Subaru Forrester would do the job. Consumer Reports rate it as the best value.

Now to pay for it I'll need faith and friends; plenty of both. We've scraped together half the cost. (PTL!!!) This will be my last car ... if any of you would like to beat me to my funeral ... I could actually use your flowers now!

Send me an e-mail and I'll tell you how. My e-mail address is egvont@aol.com

Thanks!!!

GIVE ME MY FLOWERS NOW!

We'll call him Carlos, I've known Carlos for many years. The other day in Biarro Pedrigal he came to me asking for some money; it seemed his mother had just died and he needed money to buy her some flowers. I said no!  Carlos' mother had for several years stayed in an old folks home not more than two miles away. She died there. Not once did Carlos visit his old mother living a short distance away. Not once did he give her a flower or a kiss, but now that she is dead, he was tearfully begging for money to buy her some flowers. Too late Carlos! She's gone. Your love and flowers are simply  ... too late.

Why is it when our friend or loved one dies, then we pile on the flowers, tributes and elegant eulogies. Beautiful music, expensive casket! Why?

The honoree is no longer at the service!  He left the building! Really.

I don't think it's so much pragmatism as just simple common sense. FACT! I'll appreciate the flowers and tributes only while I'm alive. When I'm gone what's the point??  Why pile on a ton of expensive flowers and a sauce of platitudes piled over a lovely casket ... that contains the one who was, but is no more?

A simple gravestone ... a simple statement, should be sufficient.  Prince or pauper death is the final equalizer of the rich or poor.

When I die, no flowers please, or hearse carrying an expensive casket ... put that money where it's really needed by the living poor. While the show of respect may impress the living ... the very object of that show of love and respect ... "has left the building!"

Giving your friends and loved ones their flowers now makes so much more sense than an expensive salute to their memory after they're gone.

YESTERDAY

Our Barrio Ministry Days are anything but routine, similar maybe, but never routine. There is always laughter and happy-highs but on occasion there is a place for anger and sorrow. I was providing showers for about thirty boys and I noticed a new boy. He was about twelve years old. I noticed something I didn't like; in fact it angered me. Two reddish and swollen lumps on his lower abdomen. His testicles had not descended and now they were swollen and hurting bad. I called for his mother and she came. I asked her if she had ever seen a doctor on this, and she said she had some years back and the doctor said it was okay and in time they would drop! Foolish and ignorant doctors anger me! This boy was hurting and now the special surgery to drop these into his scrotum is going to cost big dollars! Please pray that we can find a good pediatric surgeon in Tijuana. His mother, a widow with three kids, and cleans houses for a living can't afford the cost of a procedure this sophisticated ... and we can't simply say, God bless you and we'll pray for you. We have to do something, and fast.

A photo would tell the story but would not be appropriate.

We stopped in to Sandra's small house. She had asked for a big stroller so she could push her crippled boy around. We visited her and her boy ... Andres. Andres is twenty-four and has the body of a five-year old. I sat on the bed watching him. He was deformed physically and mentally by meningitis when he was a baby. Again, a picture just wouldn't be appropriate. She mentioned he needs a little heater too, as it gets so cold at nights. His father works at the dump and comes home with a little money every weekend. Sandra? Well, she sells old clothes; she lays the cloths on the side of the street in front of her house hoping someone will buy.

We see so many legitimate needs, and SINCERELY, thanks to you, we don't just pass-by.

On the surgery, we'll somehow pray the money in.

WILLY THE CLAM

Willy was no different than the thousands of other clams along

The Mission Bay shoreline. He was a middle age clam living a rather tranquil life. The only stress he came across in his quiet life, was low tide ... now somehow clams in Mission Bay area know that at low tide danger hovers over the shore line looking for clams and of course Willy was in the line up along with his friends. The fluttering shadows of Seagulls above him made him nervous ... and there is nothing like a nervous clam.

Well, yesterday it became Willy's turn! A sharp eyed Seagull spotted him, and zoomed down catching Willy in his claws. Willy the clam never had an experience like this. Very rare for clams to fly! Up, up, up he went ... and then the Seagull suddenly let go. And now Willy was on his own hurdling down, picking up speed, faster and faster; faster then he had ever gone before. The Seagull following.

Thrilling ride indeed, but it didn't last long. Willy's courage was commendable: didn't scream, (clams rarely do.) He simply tightened his shell for the inevitable ... and he hit the concrete hard. Splat! His small life broke in pieces.

The big seagull stood there eating the best of Willy. Early morning clam cocktail, leaving the shell of what was Willy on the concrete to dry out and be swept away.

Up, Up and away the Seagull flew over to the shoreline again, You guessed it; looking for another Willy.

It's True: Mission Bay, in San Diego, has some intelligent Seagulls. At low tide they find their clam, fly about 70 feet up and over the cement walk-way, then drop the clam. When it hits the concrete it breaks apart and presto! Breakfast!

THREE AND AN SUV

Changing to small. Von's Ministries may be small, but in our case small is more effective and efficient. Today in my small organization of "three and an SUV" (Note the poetry!), as opposed to my former organization of seventeen paid workers, makes a big dollar difference in both staff, vehicles and other overhead expenses. In our case the difference in being small means those extra dollars go to expanding our reach directly into the homes of the poor and needy. That figures.

Each request our Barrio people make for help, no matter how small an amount, has to be checked out. As the border economy worsens; lying, cheating and scams grow more common. We have to choose what needs are to be met, and that means wisdom.

Each week the three of us work in one of four barrios. Yesterday was barrio Pedrigal: Seventy children and forty adults showed up. The three of us work hard. Rosa and Lino and their two handicapped babys, they are so thankful for their nebulizer. A new lady has a medical need; her little daughter has hepatitis and needs lab work done. By the way, have you ever seen an American kid jump up and down with joy, because he won a dollar? Kids play games, win a dollar, and head to the local store to buy some junk food ... they're hungry! At this time Abraham is undergoing surgery in Mexico city. A lot going on.

Looks like it's going to be raining this weekend in Barrio Ijido and because of the thick mud, Ijido shuts down, but over a dozen families are in need of basic food and drinking water, so I'm sending Lucas with basic food to help them through the five or six days of rain and mud.

With ministry there is always something going on. Thanks for your prayers and part with us.

SO CLOSE YET SO FAR AWAY

Moving up from South Mexico doesn't mean conditions will be better. Rosa, her husband Lino and two small daughters moved up from the south and are living with some distant relatives in one of our barrios. Lino's in bed after heart surgery and their two baby girls were born severely handicapped, one is still in the hospital with water in her lungs.

The neighbors mentioned seeing a lone woman wandering the neighborhood late in the night asking for some money for milk. Rosa?

Rosa, heard about us from a neighbor; she approached Hortensia and said; "I heard you help people in need." Rosa, wasn't asking for much, just transportation money to go to the hospital and see her daughter, she also needed money for some tortillas.

Where this will lead? We don't know, how deep in our pockets it will go? We don't know. We just know this is a legitimate need and that's what we are there for. In this case, just a few dollars.

In a few days we will be sending 14 year old Abram and his mother down to Mexico City for the third and hopefully last time. They are going to fit him with a catheter and even though he will

be fitted with a small plastic sack on his leg, he won't be using pampers any more. A trip like this will be well over a thousand dollars ... way more than this poor family can possibly pay.

We want to thank you for your prayers for our safety and wisdom. And a big thanks for those of you who pitch in and provide the dollars to meet these needs. People so close, yet so far away.

THE TRUTH ABOUT MY SUV

Well, a few days ago, I took my faithful little eleven year old, SUV in to get it's 120,000 plus check up. Normally just a day's worth of work, a lot of cash, and on the road again.

My first surprise was that it was in a major accident before I bought it! From then on the news got worse.  Front and rear suspension was really messed up by now ... rear suspension is broken. My mechanics comforting words; "Von it's unsafe to drive ... and has been." I looked at the underside and it all made sense. I knew the transmission was not right when I bought it, but they wouldn't make it right. Looks like several thousand dollars ahead ... plus a rental car for about a week. As frustrating as it is, I'm glad it was discovered, and not on the road in Mexico. The agency is going to try and give me a break (Thankful to God.) Times like this we think of upgrading, but that's more $$$s I should be back in Mexico in a week. I'm glad they caught this ... be thankful in all things.

I'm frustrated! I've talked to, and listened to, several of my close friends and they think I should upgrade; as reliability is important at my age. Can't argue with that. Even if we had the money, getting a brand new SUV would fight the very culture I work in, as well as turn off many of my supporters. New is out. Maybe finding an older SUV with low and gentle mileage is the way to go.

"Lord wisdom wanted here."

I'm getting older with few years ahead, maybe I should just settle back into my old 2004 SUV ... and see who ultimately wins the race?

THE WRONG SIDE OF RIGHT

In my early Christian pilgrimage through many very conservative churches, I found myself on the wrong side of right. I was taught and/or caught; that "the more you didn't do the better Christian you were." Key words like testimony, worldly, liberal and modernist gave the Church elders a foundation of No-No's to build on, and like the Pharisees of old, the growing list was permanently fixed to the cross. As Church members we were into "not doing;" we were not to dance, party, play cards, gamble, smoke, drink, use "minced-oaths" …like darn, gosh, dog 'gone, etc. We were not to go to shows; mixed bathing (girls and boys in the same car going to the beach for the day.) was a No-No. Unfortunately I could keep going.

Actually what we didn't do was more important than what we did do. We were actually known for what we didn't do! "That's the Church that doesn't ..."

What we did do, was go to meetings and tithe. I caught on soon that the more meetings I attended during the week determined my spirituality. (Minimum: was three services a week.) Preaching was strong on Old Testament and the Epistles. Biblical it was, yet Biblical it wasn't.

Jesus and His testimony and teaching were very seldom heard from the pulpit ... I noted the book of James didn't have a place in the pulpit. For years I was stuck on the wrong side of right. Thank God, I broke free and found Churches that were Biblically balanced. I found the unheard-of Grace that was there all the time ... and heard the mandate "be doers of the Word."

Unfortunately, I find this also true the world I minister to in Tijuana; it seems that our early Christian missionaries exported that same kind of legalistic religion ... and I find so few that are willing to break out of it.

Remember Jesus greatest enemies were the legalistic ... the Pharisees! The Pharisees of today are no friend of His either.

A THIN STRIP OF MONEY

In our world of families where money is scarce, its hard for us in the U.S. to really understand the money factor ... just how many little things depend on money. As Americans we well understand that a big part of our living depends on money. However when you are very poor ... you actually think before buying a family tooth-brush or flashlight battery or for that matter a light-bulb.

Little things become big when you are poor. We Americans pretty we know there is a need for food. However, expensive Schooling surprises us. Schooling in Tijuana includes transportation, uniforms, shoes, books and projects. Understandably everyday food and schooling form their priorities and take their wages.

That leaves no money for medical emergencies! All emergencies start out with a cost for transportation, and end with a costly prescription. Transportation by bus or cab is expensive! Unfortunately they wait until the last minute to move!

Consequently, a good part of the money you send us is spent on medical emergencies. For instance if your child has asthma or bronchitis, taking him to an emergency clinic or hospital to get a nebulizer treatment; (the transportation $1.70) the treatment runs about $50. (A weeks wage.) In the long run its cheaper to buy a nebulizer and medication.

One of our mothers had to rush her child to the hospital using public transportation (bus and cab) ... and her little boy was vomiting blood! She had to beg some transportation money to get home to her other kids.

I remember one day, taking a mother and her several month old baby to the hospital ... in route the baby died! Dehydrated too long!

These are the people in our backyard, so close yet so far away. Where are our rich churches?

GRATITUDE

It's so easy to take blessings for granted; often we forget that blessings come in different sizes and shapes; often at odd times. Gratitude isn't just a word it's an attitude ... a feeling. A good and healthy feeling.

Because our ministry is that of giving, on most occasions we receive a gracious response. Hundreds of people, large and small, show their appreciation for our help. On most occasions it's a smile and gracias, and that's sufficient. The people, even little people show their gratitude.

More than once I caught a "bug" working in Mexico. Now that I'm older these "bugs" are easier to get and harder to shake. My latest was a chest cough; when I start coughing it sounded bad and looked worse. At an orphanage one night I had a coughing attack. Suddenly the kids got a chair, pulled me towards it, and sat me on it, other kids were patting me on the back. Eight pairs of eyes intently looking at my face ... a sudden response, a loving response, from kids who love me. Gratitude in a different form. I can still feel those little pats on my back.

On other occasions, I might add, many occasions, we know we hit the Divine moment of need when we slip a little financial help in the hands of a lady and suddenly there is an emotional breakdown ... a river of tears and a tight hug! Gracias! Gracias!! And the story flows out of how the unknown need was met by our gift. In most cases Hortensia is the one who gets the tears and hugs.

But she's not alone.

I remember late one afternoon driving back from a visit to Ijido, a rather isolated community ... a cold and muddy barrio of poor people living in shacks. As I was driving home, I saw Jose up the road, slowly riding toward me on his muddy bike. I pulled over to say "Hi," and in our short conversation I felt led to slip him a ten dollar bill ... he held it. Looked at it, and looked up at me ... then the tears started flowing and the story followed. He hadn't gotten paid and there was no food in his house. Gracias! Gracias!! Hermano von! Another Divine moment. One in many, many other moments.

These are moments I can't capture by film. I don't take pictures of sacred moments like this. Filming true gratitude is sort of tricky and can look canned.

Forgive me for not taking more time to let you all know how appreciative the poor are for your financial help.

Translated: Kids medical emergencies and prescriptions, transportation to hospital, the times of no-food or no drinking water, no school shoes or books, leaking roofs, etc.

Thank you so much.