New Mexico Mission Project

For years, we've heard bits and pieces about missions in New Mexico from our friend Ward French who pioneered several missions down there. 

A little over a week ago, we were able to see two or three of them!

Here is how it happened.

Several weeks ago we got a text asking for volunteer help on a Christian school to be built in New Mexico, for Navajo children. We were able to squeeze five days out of our busy schedules for the trip. 

Here is the school that another crew had already gotten under roof by the time we got there.

This crew from the east did a fabulous job! They were so far along that Friday everyone took off for a day at the mountains, and most of our family went along, too, except for me. I stayed back and made cherry cream pies, cooked chicken for supper, ironed a pile of ironing I found, and enjoyed a quiet day until the electricity went off! Thankfully I had the chicken already cooked, so I just had to make chicken sandwiches for about 30 people in the semi-darkness of a windowless kitchen. 

Unfortunately, when the crew got back from 120 miles round trip on four-wheelers on dirt roads, they were filthy and there was no water because no electricity! Thankfully, a generator saved the day, 

but wow, it made us thankful for electricity when it came back on at 5 a.m.

The next day Jonathan saved the crew a lot of time by texturing the walls so they didn't have to do so much sanding. 

Sam and our boys helped with the priming and painting.

 Here is the inside when the painting was done.
A little restroom still needs to be installed, trim, desks, etc.

The missionary family, the Sanders, have been there for about 40 years. He has a tiny airplane that sometimes has to be fired up to fly here or there because of the long distances between places.

Here you can see some of the terrain.

And more!

While the men worked on the school, we ladies cooked and worked on stories and visuals.

There was a stack of mixed up stories that we were able to sort, organize, finish coloring, and even laminate many visuals.

I would have more pictures of the crew and folk there, but I don't want to post things online without their permission.

There were a number of stories by missionary ladies under Allegheny Wes. Meth. Church, 

authors that I know personally. 

This story looked especially good, by Nancy Troyer.

I really thought that this visual we laminated was excellent for children. It teaches the Why, When, How, What, and so on about being saved. 

It uses Scripture to answer each question. I don't have everything pictured, such as what is on the back of each one.

Sunday morning the children spotted a bunch of quail outside the house.

Hannah got lots of pictures.

Hospah Holiness Mission church from a distance.

Neighbors have sheep, and a sheep dog that was very protective when I drew near!

Sunday afternoon our family drove nearly an hour to visit our friends Randy and Sharonna Dimmett who used to minister in PNG but can't return right now because of Covid. 

They are filling in for missionaries who are taking a 3-month break from Rincon Marquez.

Our friend Ward French has often talked about the artesian well that is on this mission.

Randy Dimmett took us down to see it.

About 50 years ago (?) a company was drilling for uranium, and were drilling about a mile deep when they hit something besides uranium.

"Let me show you how much pressure this has," Randy said.

What a gusher!

That water has supplied the mission for many years. They even have a little laundromat and shower to provide these amenities for a community nearby that does not have electricity or running water.

What a lovely ministry!

This is what used to be a school.

I don't remember if these were goats or cattle or sheep across from the mission.

The children exploring.

Four beautiful horses on our way back to church for the evening.

Hannah's Missionary Apples

Hannah's Missionary Apples

    A true story for children by Anna Lucas

    As Hannah sat down on the old, bent trunk of the big apple tree near Grandma’s house, her teeth sank into one of the tart, yellow apples.

Hannah took bite after juicy bite of that fat apple, little knowing that the apples her brother and sisters were picking would turn into missionary apples in no time at all!
  
 The first thing the girls did with those apples was to take some to Grandpa and Grandma’s house on Old Dutch Mill Road where Grandma had a broken elbow. Her poor arm was all wrapped up in cast and a sling, and Grandma was having trouble doing her cooking with just one hand to work with!

“We are going to make you an apple pie!” the girls told Grandma as they set on the counter a bowl of apples fresh from the tree. The girls set out lunch, sliced apples for a pie, mixed up a crumb topping, and washed the dishes. When they left, a warm apple pie was cooling on the counter smelling absolutely delicious!

    That evening after dishes and chores were done, Hannah saw that Mom was busy at the table cutting up apple after apple. She was cutting out bad spots, dicing the apples into small pieces, and mixing them with lemon juice to put in cakes the next morning.

    Hannah’s family had a very favorite apple cake recipe with butter frosting. Each cake had four whole cups of diced apples, and Mom had cut up enough for four cakes. By the end of the morning, the counter was full of apple cakes cooling on the counter. Who were they for?

    Well, first Mom was planning to take apple cake to a lady named Brook who managed a small dairy farm a few miles away. The lady was a veteran who had lost both a brother and a sister in a tragedy only weeks before, and had just lost another friend that very day.

  “Brook was on my mind last night and this morning,” Mom said. “I was just praying for her this morning and then the text came that her close friend had a heart attack and passed away. I need to make the butter frosting and hurry right over there to see if there is anything I can do and let her know we are praying for her.”

    Mom stirred the sugar, butter, and milk together and cooked it in a pan for the frosting. When it was cooled, she poured the sauce over pieces of the apple cake which she had put on paper plates. On top she laid several pecan halves and covered each plate of cake with plastic wrap. Away Mom went to see if there was anything she could do to help Brook.

    Meanwhile, Rose and Hannah got busy with another plate of apple cake. Down the road at the corner lived an elderly lady who liked to say she was the children’s extra grandma! Sometimes she would hire the children to come stack her firewood. Other times the children would just go down and visit her and tell her all about life on their little ranch. They would tell her all about their puppies and kittens and chickens and horse and gardens. This time, Rose and Hannah took her apple cake!

    “Here come my children!” Grandma Stephanie exclaimed with a bright smile as she came to the door. “Oh, my, oh, my! What is that you are bringing?”
    “Apple cake!” Hannah said. “We picked apples yesterday at a tree in town, and Mom made our very favorite apple cake to share with you!”

    How happy Grandma Stephanie was! And she was not the only lady happy for apple cake. Down the road the other direction was another family who was going through a hard time. The dad had been put in jail, and the lives of the mom, three children and a grandma were difficult right now. More apple cake went to them, along with the recipe.
    “That is the best cake I have ever eaten!” the mother texted that evening. “Thank you for sharing the recipe!”



 Only a few days later, Hannah’s family traveled to New Mexico to join a crew that was building a little school building for a Navajo mission. While Hannah’s dad and brothers worked with the men to paint the school, her mom and big sisters helped the missionary lady make the meals for the work crew.

Out of some of the last of those apples, they made five apple pies to eat for Sunday dinner!

    Yes, little did Hannah know that when she climbed up into that old apple tree and handed down bags of apples from the high branches, that those apples were going to turn into missionary apples!

For anytime you take what God gives you and share it in love with others for Christ’s sake, you are being a missionary for Jesus!

Blinker Light Repair--When Necessary, Use Words

About a week ago or so, it well past time to repair the burned out blinker light on our van.

Jonathan was getting ready to do the job when I called Danny to come watch.

I watched, too, because who knows when I may need to know how to change a blinker light.

Jonathan and I have our boys watch when we do a job like this, or do it themselves, so that they will learn. They won't learn if we don't teach them.

We have them help when we have to figure out why the swamp cooler is making horrible noises,

and then have them help fix it.

They watch when Dad changes the whole house water filter or works on the water heater.

They learn to operate a wood splitter and a chain saw and a saw mill.

They watch and help when we paint the house or lay new flooring. 

Then when Timmy is back in PA, he and his cousins lay the flooring in the room Crystal is going to be staying in while student teaching.

When we teach our children, we could just let them watch. 

But they learn better if we open our mouths and teach them how to do the project,

and why this or that.

I'm sure I've failed to teach my girls everything I know, but I have tried hard to pass on any practical knowledge I have.

And every day, we try to teach our children what God's Word says.

It takes words.

You've probably heard the saying attributed to St. Francis of Assisi,

"Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words."

We all understand what he meant--that our actions sometimes preach better than our words.

The trouble is--teaching or preaching usually requires words. 

Teaching requires words.

It also requires time, effort, love, patience, and in these days, courage.

In a day where everything goes--except true religion, a commitment to God's Word, and real Christianity that speaks out and speaks up--

teaching while using words requires courage.

Whether we are changing a blinker light bulb, repairing a swamp cooler, patching jeans, sewing buttonholes, writing a paper or learning to grow rhubarb, it takes words to teach our children how to do a new thing.

And it takes words to teach our children what we believe about God
and about what the Bible says and how it should apply to our lives in 2020.
"And these words  which I command you today shall be in your heart.
You shall teach them [the words] diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.
You shall bind them...[You shall wear them], You shall write them..."
It takes words, my fellow mothers.
*********
Here is an article I found while checking about the author of that quote above.

https://zondervanacademic.com/blog/why-you-shouldnt-preach-the-gospel-at-all-times-and-use-words-when-necessary

Blueberry Pies and A Mother's Value

One day week before last I was feeling a little uncertain what to do with myself in the middle of the afternoon. I thought about making blueberry pies with the berries I'd bought on sale, but pies are extra work.

Instead, I looked at Facebook. 

And somebody shared a video about an Australian newscaster standing up for a mother who had been kind of randomly picked from Facebook

who said she liked to have her house clean before going to bed at night,

and would stay up till nine or twelve o'clock to do it.

And then get up at 4:30 a.m. to make coffee for her husband before he went to work. 

Another news commentator or somebody had reviled this mother as being some sort of slave.

The Australian newscaster, who had a most delightful English accent,

had a different take.

He said, "There are actually mothers out there who LOVE to do what they are doing."

Like me, I guess. I love making my house into a home.

I love overseeing what's going on, and seeing that laundry gets done regularly, and that meals are on time, and that the husband and father gets loved and welcomed and respected and taken care of.

I love getting the dishes done and making homemade goat cheese, like this.

And right in the middle of that short video clip, I made the decision to go ahead and make blueberry pies.

Even though it takes more time than adding fresh blueberries to a bowl of canned peaches (which happens most of the time). 

I left the audio on so I could listen while I started to measure the ingredients for the crust.

The way that newscaster made that ordinary mother into a hero gave me the inspiration I needed to make my pies--just for my own family.

No, I didn't share them out with all our neighbors or take one to a sick relative.

I do that sometimes, too, because it seems like an important thing to do.

And it is.

But it's important to feed our own family, too.

It's important to make a pie every once in a while just for your own family, just to let your husband know he is pretty special.

He and his children are valuable enough to spend my time making a pie.

He stopped and got berry icecream on the way home.

And it was yummy!

Grandma Breaks Her Elbow

Grandma Lucas and Grandpa came out for Timmy's birthday, and that is when we found out that Grandma had broken her elbow when she fell after tripping on a hose Sunday afternoon. Her arm was in a sling, waiting for surgery. By now, she's had surgery, and there is a plate with screws holding her elbow together for the next six weeks! I suppose we could tease her for being "all screwed up!"

Timmy got this denim apron from Rose for his meat-cutting projects.

After his birthday party, we all went out to see Timmy demonstrate his saw mill that he recently set up.

He's showing how he cuts the log to make live edge slabs.  

Rose worked for a week at a nearby dairy, milking several cows for a lady who had to travel to California to attend the funeral of a brother who was murdered in a double or triple murder. Her sister and boyfriend were killed, too. It was so sad! Anyway, the girls brought home several gallons of milk or skim milk every day, and they kept busy making various kinds of cheese and butter!

Here is Hannah, who went to the dairy one morning with Rose. She was happily reading with a kitty on her lap that we raised.

I will leave all the cousins to guess which person this is who had to crawl under the greenhouse to try to coax out the poodle who was about to have puppies. The dogs almost ALWAYS crawl under the greenhouse when they are about to have puppies!

Hearts on Her Hat--Story of a Miracle

  Last week we had friends for supper who have known Jonathan and me since before we were married.
She was wearing an unusual denim hat with little hand-crocheted hearts sewn onto it.

A sort of vintage style, and so many people tell our friend that they love it!
Perfect strangers in stores, for example.
The hat had a story behind it, of a suffering lady who crocheted these hearts.
And then our friends shared another story, which, if you like stories of miracles, you can read on. 
 

  "You Have Five Years to Live!"

            Young Dave Norris sat waiting as Dr. Gilbard--stocky, Swedish, and very, very short–entered the room. In her hands was a thick stack of papers which she set on the table.
    "From all the tests and symptoms regarding your asthma," she explained matter-of-factly, "you have three to five years to live."
    If Dave had been having trouble breathing before this announcement, he could hardly breathe at all now! The year was 1973, and he was just twenty-three years old. He had a young wife and a baby boy at home. He couldn't just die so soon like that! Dave sat stunned as the doctor handed him the stack of papers.
    "This is different information which might be a help to your wife and family when--" she paused, "when it happens. But," she went on cheerfully, "you do have an option. I have actually managed to procure for you a ticket to my very own hospital in Sweden. It is a very good hospital, and they have excellent treatment for asthma patients."
    Sweden was not only far across the ocean, it was also the farthest thing from Dave's mind. He was not the least bit interested in flying across the world to some strange hospital in Sweden, far away from his wife and little boy.   
    "What about moving to a drier climate?" Dave asked desperately. "Would that help?"
    The doctor shook her head thoughtfully. "It might extend your life a year or two," she said.
    But Dave was not deterred. He promptly called his wife and told her the shocking news, adding, "I think we should move to a drier climate first and see if that will help."
    It was true that the humidity in the New England states was terrible. Dave had been born in Connecticut and his wife in Vermont. Between the ocean and the Great Lakes and other lakes in between, humidity was part of life. And for Dave, unfortunately, smoking had also been part of life--ever since he was eight years old, in fact. It was when he was just a young boy that he smoked for the first time, and when he did, it felt like smoking was just a part of him. Everyone in his family smoked, and his body was so used to smoke that it didn't make him sick the first time he tried a cigarette. From the age of eight, he smoked for years until he began to attend a Nazarene Church with his wife and found out that smoking was not a good thing to do. Desperately, he tried to quit smoking, but to no avail. Smoking was so much a part of his life that it was almost impossible to stop.
    Nevertheless, the Lord helped him, and little by little he began to give up the habit. His little family made the big move clear across the country to the state of Colorado which was a sanctuary for asthma patients because of its dry climate. There Dave found a little church in Colorado Springs.
     One day after the pastor heard about Dave's asthma, he called Dave up front.
    "I feel led to have an anointing service," the pastor explained. "I would like to anoint you with oil and pray for God's healing of your asthma."
    Dave had never had such a thing happen to him before, but he was willing. Before long, the front of the church was filled with church folk kneeling in humility and faith, calling on God in prayer for young Dave Norris.
    The next day, a lady from church called the Norrises."How is Dave doing?" she wondered. "He's better, isn't
    Dave was not so sure. He did not feel any better actually, and told the lady so.
    "Then you get down and pray right now!" the lady urged. "I will pray with you over the phone!"
    So Dave and his wife knelt down right there in their little Colorado home [kitchen?] and had another prayer meeting with the lady on the other end of the line calling on God on their behalf. When she finished praying, Dave had to admit that he did not feel bad anymore. Had something really happened to him? Had God healed him?
    From that day on, Dave's life was in God's hands. He continued to suffer some from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, but year after year, God kept him. Fifty years later as he sat at a friend's dinner table, he recalled that day at the doctor's office as vividly as if it were yesterday.

    "I still remember her waddling in," he smiled, "that very, very short Swedish doctor. I still remember her telling me, 'You have five years to live,' and giving me a pile of papers for my wife for after I died, and an airline ticket to Sweden, just in case I wanted to make a last ditch effort! But God had other plans--Colorado, a little church on Seventeenth Street, and His own healing touch! God be praised!"