This post has taken me a couple of weeks to write, actually it's been over a month now....(and then it's just sat here for a couple more weeks, not knowing if I really want to post it)....I'm not sure why it's so heavy on my heart, but I don't want to forget it, so I'm posting it here to come back to later. (and I guess you can think of me how you want. :) It's just where God is stretching me, as ugly as it is...) It may encourage you and I hope it does, but if it doesn't apply, then scroll on. :)
I didn't think, l when I said I was going to start blogging again that the first few posts would be so personal or humbling to write, but this is where I'm at and God has really been working me over these last few weeks. These are a few things I really want to write down and print on my heart. I want to read them over and over and let these pictures sink into my mind and really stick. I want my girls to read this when they sit on the couch scrolling through our blog as they love to do.
Most importantly, I never want to be the same........These ladies taught me so much, I never want to forget.
A few weeks ago, we were invited up into the mountain to have lunch with a pastor and his family. As with most pastors in the Emanuel church, we didn't know them, but they knew us. :) We graciously accepted the invitation, loaded some bags with goodies, like cakes and breads and things I thought would be a little treat for them and headed out on the dusty, pot-hole filled road up the mountain.
We were greeted with ear to ear smiles from the adults and shy grins from behind mommas apron, by the little ones. The shy grins turned into immediate friendship as soon as a friendly kitten walked up..
The family wanted us to come sit in the kitchen because that's where things happen. That's where the center of this home is.....talking, laughing, sharing, loving, dish washing and cooking.
The hammocks are hung in her kitchen, the chairs were put out, the concrete slab floor is swept clean.
We walked on the moss covered, narrow walkway next to their adobe house to the back and up the little mud slope to this precious lady's kitchen.
I was so filled with emotion!
I wanted to cry...
I wanted to smile...
I wanted to be nosey and snoop around...
I wanted to take it all in - to take a mental picture and never erase it.
I sat in the chair that was offered me and asked if I could help. She shyly smiled and said, "No, you're my guest, I want to do this for you." It didn't matter that sweat was running down her face, or that her apron was already dirty, from wiping her hands on it more times than she could count that morning, just getting ready for her guests....
She began flipping the tortillas that she had just slapped flat on the blackened, hot griddle with flames leaping underneath.
I watched as her hands moved quickly as not to let her mind know that she was scorching her fingertips every time she flipped a tortilla...
Every once in a while she'd clap her hands if she had held a tortilla too long to get the heat out of her hands.
She hardly said a word, but she was part of every conversation, quietly smiling as she worked in preparing the meal.
When she was ready, she quietly told her husband that we all needed to move to the front porch of the house to have dinner.
Her husband sat at the head of the table and the men sat around him and she sat at the opposite end with her children. I watched her as as she ate her food and
enjoyed it, but carefully kept an eye out on her guest to make sure they didn't need anything.
She served us on her very best - she had a beautiful white table cloth, glass bowls, flowers from her garden, fresh, hand-squeezed apple juice. She made sure we had the best she had to offer. Our meal was a delicious soup, chicken roasted over the fire, tortillas, fresh cheese and salsa.
She moved to sit next to me after the children went off to play and asked how long I had lived in Guatemala and if I liked it here. I told her this was our third year here in Guatemala and that yes, I did like it here, especially since we were meeting new people making more friends. :) I learned that she and her husband had moved here two years ago to pastor the church. She said she liked it here, but it was different than the hot valley they had lived in for five years.
It wasn't but a few minutes and she said, with a big smile on her face, that she needed to go start making the snack for that afternoon. I really couldn't believe it because we just ate a full meal.
I asked if I could go with her and she said, "Of course, everyone will come because that is my kitchen" Sure enough, the men brought their chairs along, grabbed a stool, sat on a stump or relaxed in the hammock as she started taking new corn off the cob to make little cakes and a drink for our afternoon snack.
Looking around, I couldn't help but feel guilty. She had the humblest of kitchens..... a dirt oven, chipped cooking pots and a concrete sink of sorts and yet, she wasn't ashamed to invite us in. She didn't apologize for "not having the best". She didn't hang her head because she didn't have a nice indoor kitchen She didn't care that her beautiful flowers were mixed in with the fire wood that she'd picked up the week before and squash plants mixing in with her flowers were crowding them over...
She beamed as she showed me her precious treasure. Her hand grinder that she uses to grind dried beans, coffee beans and corn for her tortillas.... She didn't complain that she couldn't just go to the store and buy a bag of coffee, or buy tortillas in a bag that she can rip open and plop on the table...
She didn't complain when it started raining and she put out empty dishes on the table in just the right places to catch the rain that would come through the rusty, tin roof... she just put them out with a smile and kept on picking her corn off the cob in one smooth motion....
She didn't complain that the chickens were crowding into her kitchen to get out of the rain and that there were kittens constantly under foot.....
There weren't any grumbles of "people always wanting to eat around here" coming from her lips, and the men just sitting around all the time...... No, only smiles and words that were soft and uplifting.
She told me I was beautiful and she was so happy that I came....that she was happy we were missionaries here and that she wanted to come visit me in my house....
I wanted to freeze this time! I wanted to sit and write it all down so I wouldn't forget. I wanted to crawl under the soggy wooden bench and pull my knees up under my chin, to sit there a while and ponder all of this.....
Why is it, that I have a beautiful, indoor kitchen, with running HOT water, a gas stove and an oven, lights that turn on with a switch (most of the time), a roof that doesn't leak, a door that keeps the animals out, fans that can cool me down if I'm hot, a microwave that can heat things up in a few seconds, a pantry and refrigerator bulging with too much food.....why is it that I have all that and yet I still find myself whining and grumbling at times?
Why is it that (shamefully) I find myself asking why people in my family need to eat multiple times a day? Breakfast, lunch, supper and usually in between....
Why is it that when we have guest - or sometimes not even when we have guests - I throw out the paper plates and plastic cups so I won't have to do so many dishes? (not that paper or plastic is bad, but my attitude is sometimes...)
I know there is a time and place for paper plates and plastic cups, but what if that was an exception rather than the norm?
Why is it that sometimes, I just scarf my food down, not even tasting it because we have to "hurry and finish our food" to move on to the next thing?
What if I'm missing out on the whole deal by not slowing down and enjoying my food? What if my kitchen is the heart of my ministry and I'm missing out? What if feeding my hungry tribe and guests that come into our home, is really my calling and I'm missing out on that?
What if the heart of why I'm here is around my table and I'm blind to it, pushing it aside with the paper plates and plastic cups, wishing I had something "important" to do?
What if I saw hungry tummies as my opportunity to serve food to not only the body, but to the heart, too? What if my sighs were replaced with a smile? What if my "why are you hungry again" were turned into, "lets make a snack together"?
What if that invitation up in to the mountains, to that tiny, humble kitchen was not from the pastor and his family, but actually an invitation from God? What if God invited me up there to see what I'm really missing out on? What if God wanted to open my eyes that day to show me that really the heart of my ministry is my kitchen and table and *how* I serve from it?
Since coming to the mission field, I have struggled to know where my ministry is. We have five, beautiful children that I homeschool and I feel very strongly that if I leave every morning to go do "more important" things that are endless on any mission field, I will later regret it. So, from the beginning, I knew that being home with my children was going to be a big part of my work here, even though it is not a very adventurous sounding job like trekking through the jungles to deliver a baby, or holding children services for hundreds of half clothed children, or serving on a mobile medical clinic that reaches the remotest of people.
I have had different people ask me, "So what exactly do you do over there?" "Um....I homeschool our children, clean the house, do laundry, try to have healthy meals....invite the staff of the school over once a month for a meal and games at our house, give a cup of water and sucker to the street children that come to my door almost everyday asking for a drink .....*eyes on the floor*" I've been stared at like "You're really not doing anything great and grand, are you? You're just there so Keith can be there and do his work?"......."yep, pretty much!" One person even told me "You'll never, ever be an effective missionary by keeping yourself home with your children - you've lost all effectiveness as a missionary by choosing to stay home." (Yes, I went and hid in my room and cried)
I knew without a doubt before coming that God wanted me to homeschool our children, therefore being home most of the time was where I knew I needed to be....
There are many callings to missionary wives and mothers. I have so many precious, missionary friends that CAN do those out-of-the-home adventerous things, because it's what's God has called them to do, but I guess I've struggled with what my calling was. I didn't know that I was struggling, but I was.....inside I had this little pity party going on like, "God, why can't I go out and do those exciting things? Why can't I be the one to serve people outside our home?" I never voiced those thoughts, but they were there in my heart. :(
But then came the invitation to the mountains......that beautiful, leaky, out door kitchen, and the precious lady in the stained apron with the biggest smile on her face. God opened my eyes that day!
God showed me that her ministry to her family and guest fuels them to be able to go out and do what God has called them to do.
Her ministry is fueling others - physically, emotionally and spiritually from her humble table.
My eyes were opened that day to what my calling is. No matter what others may tell me about how effective or ineffective I am here - all that really matters is that I'm fulfilling my calling and that calling is from God and it matters to Him.
I want my table to not only be filling empty tummies, but empty hearts, too. I want an invitation to my table to be an invitation to enter into the presence of Jesus.....for those that sit around my table, whether it's just our family or our guests to be filled, not only physically with good food, but emotionally with uplifting conversations and spiritually with Christ-centered conversations.
I don't want my grumblings to override my calling.
I don't want my family to not even be able to taste the food because mom is rushing them, or mom is grumpy - again. Every meal may not be a feast all spread out on glass dishes, but every meal can be served with love and a spirit of kindness that draws those at the table to come together and be blessed by each others presence.
God has had to peel back multiple layers of ugly to get me here, but I'm glad I'm here. I'm thankful that God hasn't given up on me in all of my grumblings. I'm thankful that God opened my eyes and showed me someone with partly the same calling as He's given me and what a blessing it was to be in the presence of a sweet lady doing her calling well.......
I feel so convicted! That maybe I've missed it for the last three years, but I'm also determined to see my ministry with new eyes. To embrace it with all my heart, even if it isn't very "missionary"
sounding.
I know that I say this a lot, but I'd love to hear your thoughts, or things that have helped you in this area ...serving others from your table well. I don't mind cooking if I know what to cook. :) That has been part of my problem, I feel, because by supper time, I'm tired and really don't want to think about doing anything else...but maybe that is one of my most important times.....
Working together with my children to get food ready, letting them help me, setting a table with candles (my girls always beg for this and why not?), serving the food with love and showing it. I have so much to learn, I feel.....
So I'm humbly hitting the "publish" button, not so you can read it and think whatever you will about me, but I'm hitting "publish" so I will forever remember this day - this time that God invited me into the mountains to the beautiful kitchen filled with His presence - this time that He opened my eyes to my calling.....
Humbly,
Crystal
