Where you go, I will go; where you live, I will live. Your people will be my people for your God is my God.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Deckin’ the Halls ‘11

Or the start thereof.  I spent the first several days of December state-side visiting family and friends. I left the casita undecorated for the holidays, but with much anticipation to begin upon returning.  The holiday season here really runs from Christmas Eve till January 6th {El Dia de los Reyes}, so I am not really behind.  Our décor is mostly simple, handmade, and relatively un-impressive.  Any cute idea was probably begged, borrowed or stolen from someone {Hi Christina!} or somewhere.  I am spending this week and next doing a project or two a day.  Here is what we have so far: 






{Okay, so the fireworks are not a part of the décor, but it would not be the holiday season at our house without them! Just as Rafa.}DSCN0108








Botas.  Aka “Boots” from Shriek, the newest member in our casita.  I have never been a cat fan, but I prefer cats to rodents…and that is Botas’ job here at our home: pest control.  He comes from a long legacy of mice catchers, so hopefully he will be around for a while!

P.S. A bit of information for those of you who may consider visiting: I have not *actually* seen mice or evidence there of here in {or around} our house.  We are just trying to keep it that way, thus the protection of Botas!

Friday, December 9, 2011




I find myself in a high school middle school class. But this time instead of sitting among the students, I stand before them.  ‘Cause I’m not longer a student and living in Mexico {apparently} makes me qualified to speak on Latino living and the Spanish language. 

We arrive to the question section.  “I don’t know…” is my most common answer, because,  {as it became quite obvious very quickly}  I am no expert.  The questions cover my experiences, political issues, cultural differences, and of course food.  The teacher takes a turn asking a question, “Can you please explain to the students how blessed we are?!” 

Her question makes me think.  I consider jumping up onto a {judgmental} soap box of mine about the abundance of everything in our country and how unappreciative we are as a society.   But I knew that would not be a fair answer. 

“Your teacher asked me to explain how blessed we are here,” I began. “I appreciate the question greatly,”I continued looking at her, “but I do not think it is fair to say we are blessed.

“We measure blessing in terms of what we have, but in reality that has nothing to do with being blessed or not.  I know people who have nothing, but know that people are the most important thing they will ever come across in this world.   When you go to their house, they will give you the best, if not all, of what they have to eat, and rejoice to do so.  In having nothing, they know that things really mean nothing, and souls mean everything. 

“And I believe,” I continued, “that most of us will spend the rest of our lives learning that simple truth.   They are the blessed ones.” 

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Being his.

My dad, Kim, and Maria spent this past weekend with us.  It was fabulous.  We ate too much, slept too little, laughed just enough, and even spent one afternoon hiking some pyramids.

But as these things usually do, it came to an end all too quickly.  At the airport yesterday the time came to say our goodbyes. Dad hugged me tight and I heard the tears in his voice as he told me he loved me.  My throat was tight and the tears threatened to run down my face too so I did not say too much. As Rafa and I turned around, he slipped his fingers through mine, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. We sought out a taxi to begin our trek back to our small home on the outskirts of a little town in central Mexico, as my family boarded a plane to the good ol’ US of A. 

Everything was smooth emotion-wise until that night. Snuggled up close, watching a movie, Rafa said, “I missed your dad.”  I did not respond, so Rafa asked, “Are you going to cry?”  “No,” I responded, “I already am.” 

I pulled my head up of his shoulder to look at his eyes.  “I want you to know,” I began though the tears were still falling, “when we left the airport today, I realized I was not sorry to walk away from the m holding your hand.  I would do it again.  I never wanted to go back with them.  I am glad I choose you.  I have no regrets.  Thank you for that.”  Rafa pulled me close, kissed my forehead and whispered, “Te amo, Kat.” 

And that’s the truth.  I have no regrets.  Rafa is the only man in the world for whom I would give up everything I have ever known.  And I have done it.  And I am not sorry.  I am my beloved’s and he is mine. 

Monday, October 24, 2011

A wee bit of fall…

…in a land where there is not one.

Oh, Halloween {or a version of it at least} is celebrated, but when I think of fall, I think of a season.  Cooler temps, colors changing, apple picking, baking, and pumpkin patches.  All of which does not happen here.  Except for the cooler temps, but the weather here is so fickle we go through four seasons’ worth of temperatures in a day.  

But I love fall. It’s one of my favorite seasons. Actually, I just get excited with any season change, cause I really cannot think of a favorite.  Anywho, we have been pretending it is fall, on a small scale. 

~Thanks to the ending {or near ending} of my first trimester, baking is a favorite activity of mine.  Especially sweet breads or anything with cinnamon.

~Tea {Limon Herb for Rafa and Vanilla Chia for me} is the current hot beverage of choice in this house. 

~An open front door, where the sun streams in the brightest, with a chair pulled up, is my favorite afternoon reading spot. 

~Cinnamon sugar magically makes it’s way on top of just about everything possible. 

~  You can find pumpkins in our small town, but they are all green or gray.  I thought about painting some, but I had yet to do it when my brother-in-law {who lives in Xalapa} sent my these little guys.  They have been enough to quench my need for fall décor.  For now at least  :)    IMG_1118

A Time and a Purpose


{A look at our new, in process, front yard.}

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven….a time to break down and a time to build up….”

My new favorite mug.


A gift from my suegra

It’s glass with pink lettering.  It starts off saying, “You are lovely, adorable, great, etc.…”

Then on the other side it says, “…you are mom.”IMG_1112

I would not be quite so sure about everything else, but it got the mom part right!

Monday, October 17, 2011


The beauty…

The emotions…

The learning… 

The excitement…

The scariness…

The discovery… 

The awesomeness…

A million questions, sleepless nights spent pondering, and cold mornings, still wrapped up in blankets and each other’s arms, wondering together what it will all be like….

So far, this is motherhood.  Yes, I am a mom. I may only have about 10 weeks worth of experience in field of motherhood, but I am a mom.   It’s new, unknown, and oh so beautiful. 

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The Kitchen

Small, well laid out, open, and fresh looking.  I love it. 







Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Just when I thought….

…the construction, noise, and dust were a thing of the past for our little house, I find this in the living room:


As of yesterday it’s all back.  You know those big ugly concrete walls Mexicans put up to close in their land?  Give us a couple weeks and we will have some of our very own. Oh YES!

While they are quite the eye-sore the thought of animals roaming, fruits and veggies growing, and *children* romping around in our fenced in property brings nothing but a smile to my face. And the hideousness?  I believe some climbing roses and ivory are in order. 

Without Further Ado….


I would like to introduce you to our newest family member…


Baby D! 

Who one day soon will be covering my view of my shoes and we should be holding in our arms around Mother’s Day 2012. 

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Monday, October 3, 2011


We had a grand time.  Everything was not organized and stress-free, but it also gave us a three-day weekend to spend together, we were moving into our house, and had a good plan even if it was a bit crazy.

A few of details to give you an idea of the bigger picture.  The construction workers pasted their promised {and already postponed} deadline, our contract was up on the apartment with more people scheduled to move in only a few days later,  and Rafa’s friend with a truck could only help out after 10:30 p.m. So Friday night {really Saturday morning}  at 2 a.m. we told the construction workers they could leave,  laid our mattress on the living room floor in the middle of all of our stuff possessions, and fell asleep like giddy as four-year-olds.

We left around 9 the following morning to give our keys to the landlord and give the construction workers space to finish the details.  {Lighting, anyone?}  We slept in the same conditions that night, and then Sunday afternoon after church a small army came and helped us start turning our house into a home.  Thus enter what you have all been waiting for: pictures! 

The boys {brother-in-law to the left and Rafa to the right} working hard to clean up the outside. It required dirt and gravel hauling form the backyard to level it all out.



Rafa’s great-aunt Tita {the famous Gael's grandmother} working hard in the living room.


Cleaning the bedroom.


Discovering the floor!  And taking a break for a round of Chines checkers.



And the first comida….


English Class Bit.

The average age of my classes is seven.  The major gender, male.  Think about it….seven-year-old boys in an after school or Saturday class.  It makes things quite interesting and memorable. 

The other day, I had to keep reminding one such lad about the rules. Obeying and being nice are the two basics, and I reminded him that interrupting was not nice.  At one point he asked,

“What does ‘wait’ mean?”  Not sure if he was referring to weight or wait, I asked, “Why do you ask?”

“My English teacher at school is always telling me ‘Wait!’”  he responded. 

“Then she is telling you to esperarte,” I concluded. 

I then continued on with the planned lesson when he held up his hand like a stop sign exclaiming, “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! It’s not interrupting if you say ‘wait’, is it?!”


{Memory game.  One of the very favorite activities.  Competition works wonders with young men.} 

Friday, September 30, 2011


We have.....
  • Moved! We moved a week ago and I still wake up in our little house and can hardly believe it. We have quickly learned there will always be one more thing to do when owning a home, but we are enjoying every second have it.
  • Loved being together more. Our home is closer to Rafa's job and a bit farther from everything else we know here, so we have been spending plenty of time in our home, just the two of us.
  • That being said, I think we have had more people around our table this week than in the last month we were in the apartment. A full house is always a delight!
  • Passed way to much time at the local fair. It came to town the first day we were in our house. Because the entrance is free and its only a couple blocks away, our evening walks have often lead us there.
  • Taken pictures. But none of them seem to be around when I am on the internet. One day, one day soon.

Monday, September 19, 2011

La Primera Vista

{I wrote an English version of this post several months ago.  If you would like to see it, please click here. It’s been two years today.}

Me despierto y trato a enfocarme. ¡¿Donde en el mundo estaba yo?! Escucho hablando que n puedo entender. Me visto y me pregunto qué debo que hacer. Abro tantito la puerta a descubrir un cuatro lleno de varias cosas pasando, la mesa está llena de genta, mas personas paradas, y aun mas ponían la comida en la mesa. Aun que ya estoy completamente despierta, no entiendo nada de lo que pasa ni de lo que hablan. Todos están practicando en el idioma que vine a aprender: español. Uno por uno cada cara se me presenta y me dicen que luego me van a poner examen de sus nombres. Yo pretendo que ya me se cada nombre, pero la verdad ni tengo idea como se llaman. Conocí a unos, incluyendo las únicas dos muchachas, la noche antes, los demás son un misterio. El momento que acaban de comer, todos se levantan para irse, con la excepción de los dones de la casa. No tengo idea que hacer, entonces empico a lavar los trates, pero me dicen que debo que dejarlos. Un matrimonial joven con sus tres niños {incluyendo una bebe} lleguen y todos nos subimos a la Suburban. Vamos por un ratito y empicamos a subir un lado de la montana. En el camino suba más gente que estaba caminando. Un temple con cientos de personas nos esperaba arriba.

Una boda.

Ofrezco a cargar la bebe. Siempre uso los bebes come un tipo de seguridad cuando no quiero la atención. Además, esta babe es dulce y no llora mucho. Alguien me llama la atención. Uno de los muchachos que estaba en la casa en la mañana… ¿cómo se llamaba? Quién sabe. Tiene sus brazos extendidos a indicar que quiere cargar la bebe. Muevo mi cabeza a decirle que “no”. Nadie me iba  a quitar mi seguridad. Estaba yo contenta como estaba.

{El dia de la boda en Tzancolco. El dia que nos conocimos…}Imagen137

Lo que yo no sabía era qud ese muchacho me iba robar el corazón y en menos que 16 meses se iba casar conmigo.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Spelling, English and Learning.

Lunch is cooking again.  Seems like that is pretty much always the case when I sit down to write.  Morning chores finished, lunch on its way to being done, and wondering when the man will be home. 

These moments are ones that I often find myself with pen in hand, journal and bible open in front of me.   I have never been disciplined enough to spend time in quietness first thing in the morning.  My mind gets distracted too quickly with the to-do list for the day.  Laundry started before the sun is high and warm, quick trips to the produce stand, and that sort of thing.  But these quite moments before lunch and then again in the evening, are precious, reviving the soul. 

My days are busy now.  Well I should say *busier*.  They are still far from busy, but rather full and joy filled.  Since school has started back up, I have been teaching English classes more frequently.  I teach 4-5 times a week in the late afternoons.  The average age of the class is 7-years-old, and the majority are male.  There has not been a boring class yet! Between answering questions like “How do you say, "’His apple makes me want to puke?!’”  and “How do you say ‘I dare you to kiss her?’” I think they are actually learning something. 

I am as well.  Anyone who knows me knows about my lack of spelling skills. They have greatly improved over the past few years, but they are still not where they should be.   Normally this is not too much of an issue thanks to things like spell check.  But when you are teaching your language to someone else, you *should*  be able to spell words correctly.  Each class I have a time for questions.  The other day one of the boys asked to say “parrot”  in English. I told him, then dictated letter by letter as he wrote it in his notebook.  One of the older students looked at me funny and questioned, “Then what does p-a-r-r-o-t spell?”  I looked down at how I had told the other boy to spell “parrot” and realized it was misspelled.  Go figure.  So Mexican children are teaching me to spell in English.  Lovely.  Like I said we are all learning :) 

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Green Bean Memories.

I am standing in the corner vegetable store. The produce changes regularly due to the seasons, and I need to find something just right to round out today’s lunch.  I quickly scan the small store and my eye lands on green beans.  Perfect! I make a couple of other purchases and hurry home. The hour is late and time has slipped away from me yet again. 

I take the beans to the sink clean them, snap of the ends, and add them to a pot of water to boil.  The water from the faucet hits the beans and the smell of freshly picked green beans fills my nose. 

I go back. 

Back to a time over a dozen years ago.  A time when only squabbles with my brother about who’s turn it was to feed the baby her oatmeal and territorial fights with my sisters, where the only things that made my world a little less than perfect. 

I am sitting in our tree house with my sister.  We had grocery bags full of fresh green beans pilled around us.  We had just picked them from our summer garden.  In our minds of course, we were not in a tree house in the 1990’s in Georgia, but off some extreme wilderness fighting for survival against the natives and preparing for a harsh winter. {There *may* have been a Little House element to it, but I like to think we were just creative, self-entertaining, brilliant children.}    We spent hours snapping beans {which my mother later cleaned and froze}, keeping house, and making blood pacts.  We somehow always survived.  {Or one of us got mad and stomped off into the house, thus ending our adventures.} 

I am back in the present now.  My green beans are cooked and waiting for a certain handsome man to come home.  I wonder where those days have gone and who plays in that tree house now…?  Where do they go?  What adventures do they have?

Tuesday, August 30, 2011



It is not something I am good at, but I find myself in times of waiting more often than not. 

Waiting for my husband to get home. 

Waiting for news of a friends’ passing. 

Waiting to move into our house. 

Waiting for a certain changes in our life. 

Waiting to have full, busy days. 

Waiting for out of town family.

Waiting for my neighbor’s heart to change.

Waiting for Sunday.

Waiting for my heart to be naturally loving, kind, and grace-filled.  Instead of unmerciful, quick to speak, and naturally angry. 

Waiting for financial peace.

Waiting for the answers to a million questions.

I am always waiting. 


I recently finished a book called Broken Down House by Paul David Tripp.  Each chapter opened my eyes and  brought conviction, but perhaps the most profound chapter for my life at this point in time was the chapter entitled, “Learn to Wait.” I underlined and scribbled profusely in my notebook while reading. 

He defines waiting as, “…living through those moments when you do not understand what God is doing and you have no power to change your circumstances for the better.”  

He goes onto say that waiting tests our ability to truly leave things up to God.   He puts it this way, “Waiting will always reveal where you have placed your hope.  Your heart is always exposed by the way you wait.”   Waiting is an act of grace for in my life.  My God wants to show me again and again not to trust myself and the control I pretend to have over my own life, but to trust HIM.  He’s got the whole world in HIS hands.  Not I.

One thing about waiting that has always irked me so that it just seems so passive.   What are you are you doing when you wait ten minutes for your tortillas?  Nothing, right?  Those are 10 wasted minutes.  And if I am going to waste time, I want to waste time the way I want to, not waiting around for other people. 

But not so, according to the author of this book.  Waiting is active.  Waiting calls us to remember, worship, serve, and pray. Waiting is an opportunity to grow, celebrate the goodness of God, and to make me a little more unsatisfied with the things of this life. 

Waiting causes me to long for eternity, to remind me that my life really is just a waiting time, until I am home.   

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

frozen grapes.


It was one of my favorite snacks as a child. I have recently rediscovered the wonderfulness of the frozen treat.  Like little balls of sherbet, as a friend said.  Pure delight. 

a chuckle.


I was enjoying my sunny walk going to who knows where. I was wearing a comfortable ankle length multi colored skirt, brown flats, and a brown shirt.  My hair was down and pulled back a bit to one side with bobby pins to keep the fly-a-ways  out of my eyes.  

An older man-you know the kind; the ones who look like they have been grandfathers there entire lives- on a bike was trying to get my attention.  I pretended not to notice.*  But this one was a determined fellow and he pulled his bike right up next to me. 

“Excuse me,” he said, “Are you from such-and-such a place?”

“No.  I am not.  I am sorry,” came my short and sweet reply. 

“But you are not from near so-and-so?”  he continued. 


“It’s just that sometimes young people come from there.  You know, the ones that read your palms and stuff like that?”  He stated it more in the form of a hopeful question. 

I smiled.  He thought I was a fortune teller!   I quickly explained that no, I do not read palms, that I was a Christian.  I also told him where I was actually from, and that it could perhaps explain why I look different?

He turned a deep shade of red, saying, “Oh!  I am so sorry for what I said!”  I told him not to worry about it, and he quickly peddled away. 

*Not because I am mean like that, but because when you are the only white woman in a city, it is generally best *not* to pay any special attention to men. I have not had any problems in my time in Mexico because of it though. It’s just a general rule of thumb.    People of all sizes and ages tend to stare when they first see “la guera”, but they quickly get over it :)

Today’s Lunch

IMG_0868A salad made with cut up chipotle chicken enchiladas (no dairy included), iceberg lettuce, mashed black beans, and topped with a salad dressing made out of leftover non-spicy salsa, a tad of mayo, and a bit of chicken broth.  It could be called a “Mexican Salad”  but Rafa says no Mexican would have come up with such a thing. Therefore it is an American salad with Mexican spices :)   I enjoyed it, except that the tortillas from the enchiladas were cold.  It was not bad, but not desirable.  The blend of spices however, was wonderful. Next time I will probably make extra enchilada filling and just use the marinated chicken instead of the whole enchilada in order to eliminate the tortilla, and then add tortilla chips as an alternative. Corn, tomatoes, olives, fresh spinach, and cheese would all make great additions too.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

El Cofre de Perote




{Pictures taken from the backyard in our soon-to-be finished house.}

Juevo con tortilla.

Eggs with tortilla. 

A very simply, but perhaps my all time favorite back-up Mexican meals.  Maybe its one of my favorites because it is so simple?!


Tear up a corn tortilla and fry the pieces on a bit of oil or butter.  Sometimes I chop up an onion and throw it in at this point too. Once they are crisp, add eggs.  I normally do a 1-to-2 ratio with the tortillas and eggs.  One tortilla, two eggs.  Sprinkle with  salt and pepper or any other spice you usually use with eggs.  Cook it all like you would scrambled eggs. You can melt some cheese on top if you like.  Serve with whatever salsa you have around. 


Eggs and tortillas are always something we have in the house so we have juevos con tortilla at least once a week, and I have yet to be tired of it!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

a couple favorites.


Gael and Rafa.

You know you are loved when…

…you have a place in your kitchen reserved for dishes you need to return to other people. 


Just from this week alone I have several: 

  • My neighbor brought me candy fruit that she made.  She makes food to earn a little extra cash, but when it is something she things I have never had before, she brings over a little sampling.  I don’t complain.
  • Rafa came home for lunch yesterday with breaded fried chicken breast from his great aunt.  She knows I love it {the closest thing to Chick-fil-A there is in Mexico…which is a good thing!}, saw Rafa, and packaged some up for me.   Cut up into strips, it was a great addition to our breakfast tacos. 
  • I have cloth napkins that I need to return to my suegra and her sister. A couple are from when they have given me tortillas and others are for when I forget to take one when I buy tortillas. 
  • Last Saturday a dear friend from church invited me over for lunch.   Rafa was still at work, so she sent a container full of ribs bathed in chipotle salsa back home with me. 
  • Rafa’s mom also sent over some black beans this week.  A nice addition to any meal in Mexico. 

Is your mouth watering yet?!  And a week like this is not unusual.   It is a “vicious”  cycle really.  When I take the containers back, I normally fill them with a little something too.  Some type of sweet treat or leftovers. (Sharing leftovers in the States may be a little odd, but here it is perfectly acceptable.)  For example, my suegra loves chicken soup and I have a pot of it on the stove right now.  There are only so many times in week that you have the appetite for chicken soup.  I always seem to make enough to feed a small army instead of two people.  Therefore I will fill up  the container that she sent over with the beans with soup when I take it back.  A win win for all involved. There is no sense of obligation on either side, though I think I get the better end of the deal.

Food does wonders at winning over hearts…and not just for men.  So, share a meal.  Send a little something to a friend, even if it is just a portion of a meal.  Invite the neighbors to sit at your table.  Share leftovers :) Jump into someone else’s kitchen.   Learn from them.  Begin the cycle of giving and receiving, of a community that cares enough to share what they have, be it small and simple.  Show people you love them.  You will be blessed and a blessing. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Around the house.









~A poinsettia  gifted in August.

~11 eggs in a white cloth box. You can buy in a carton of 30, half a carton of 15, or individually.  I buy 10 individuals at a time. Buying a dozen would seem like a natural thing to do, but I never have. Wonder why?

~Part of today’s lunch. Leftover salsa, ground sausage, tortillas and crushed tostados, to be accompanied by black beans, scrambled eggs, and Guava water, for warm simple breakfast tacos. 

~The table’s current center piece. 

~The soft glow of a candle.

~A basket cradling precious books. Including a The Dairy of Anne Frank in Spanish. {My current language challenge.} And at not a bad price, being a 40 peso find. 

~Our {now} empty afghan filled guest bed.   Won’t you come? 

Monday, August 15, 2011


The day is warm.   The afternoon still young.  I walk down the street, heading to buy our daily rations of tortilla.

“Mi amigo?!”   I look from side to side and finally down to see the face of a boy, no more than four years old.  His was the voice that had interrupted my thoughts.

“Mi amigo?!!?”  He asks, no demands again.  He obviously wanted some piece of information and thought I had it.   Had he lost something?  And did I even know this kid?  I had no idea. 

“No se, tu amigo…?”  I begin.  The light bulb comes on.   Of course I know this kid!  I saw him on the street corner near my house a few nights ago.  Rafa had talked to him.

“Oh! Mi esposo, Rafa?!”  I ask.   He gives me a look of an obvious “DUH, lady!”  I explain that Rafa is at work.  The child looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and scampers away.  

I hurry along my way as well, smiling and thanking the Lord that the man children know as amigo, I know as husband. 

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Really good.

Two weeks ago our modem was struck by lightning, therefore our internet was down for about a week. 

Last week we had Vacation Bible School, my husband stepped on a nail and was home for a few days, so the world wide web was on of the last things on my mind. 

Early this week we visited friends a few hours away, and brought some back to stay with us for the week, thus making trips to my suegra’s house less frequent.  For internet use, at least.  

It has been weeks since I have talked with some members of my family and friends that I normally keep up with.  My blog has seen a couple of posts here and there, but the pictures on my computer tell me I have a lot of posts left unwritten.  Skype dates with girlfriends have been less frequent, and I have a list of people that I need to email.  

But in these past few weeks I have been in more homes here, had face-to-face and heart-to-heart talks, the young kids from church are no longer shy or scared around me, but will come sit on my lap, run to me for a hug, or hold my hand while walking down the street. (It took VBS for them to realize that the white girl is a person too :) I have held babies of all sizes, including just a couple of days old.  We have visited old friends and made new dear ones.   More people have come in and out of our front door than the first three months combined that we were here. 

I love being busy, jumping happily form one activity to the next.  And being a stay-at-home wife in a place where you hardly know anyone is anything *but* busy.  Friends from the States would assure me that things would pick up without me even realizing it, and I would be longing for a day of nothing again.  I was not quite so sure….

It was is a struggle.  I tell God, “I want to do great things for you!”  He responds, “Be faithful in the little things.”   “But am I not better than that?  Don’t you want to use me for more than little things?!”   He gently reminds me, “No.  I am the one who did and does great things in you.  I made the world out of nothing.  I take nothing and make them something.  Be faithful in the seemingly nothingness.”    

He has put me here.  Here and now.  He is the One who allows what comes into my day.   He has put me here to build a family, know Him, love my neighbor,  create a community, make new friends, and live for Him.

So if you live far away, love me, and do not see much internet activity, please do not worry.  I am not going on a internet fast, I still love skype dates,  and blogging is something I enjoy.  Do not think that something is the matter.  On the contrary, things are good.  Really good. 

Friday, August 12, 2011

11 de Agosto


¡Feliz Cumpleaños guapo!

Doy gracias al nuestro Señor por tu vida. Gracias por ser mi amado. ¡Te amo!