Earthquakes and Hurricanes and Drug Wars! Oh, My!

…And what they “think” they know, they know very little about.  Pardon me for jumping in the middle of an unfinished thought from last week’s post.  (That's a risk you take when you let a writer publish minus an editor.)  We were talking about our loved ones who cannot relate to our lives because they have never seen where and how we live.

What they do know about our host countries often has nothing to do with us personally.  How often have you gotten frantic phone calls and emails about some disaster that made the news, but that didn’t affect you in the least?

The first time I heard about an attempted coup in Guatemala was when the letters started coming (back in the pre-computer age).  We lived within a few miles of where the incident occurred, but it didn’t touch our lives at all.

Here in Oaxaca we are seldom affected by hurricanes, since we live in the high desert.  We might get a lot of rain, and some bridges might collapse, but very rarely.  Still people hear about flooding in Oaxaca and envision us floating away in a makeshift boat with our few belongings.

Most times the “earthquakes” people read about are only “tremors” in reality.  Even the earth shaking, truly frightening quakes we have experienced have never caused any personal harm or damage to our house or recording studio.  If people only understood, they would not be so impressed.*

Back in 2006 Oaxaca was in the news due to ongoing riots in the capital city.  Short-term teams saw the news and cancelled their trips even though we live an hour away from the airport.  Nowadays it’s kidnapping and drug-related violence that grab attention, even though most of the trouble is far away from our southern state.

But what does it say to people when they perceive that we live in these hotbeds of danger and unrest?  Are we fools to live and raise children in such unsafe places?

My policy is not to judge people based on the news and crime in their cities.  If I were to focus only on the Associated Press for my information, I might question anyone’s sanity for wanting to live in places like Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York City. (Shivers!)

The truth is that MOST people live in those places and are safe.  Most people can eat at a Cracker Barrel, attend public (or Amish) school or college, and visit the Empire State Building without witnessing a single shooting. 

The sad fact is that most people in the world have no option to pack up and go someplace safer even when danger is imminent and real.  I consider this when loved ones imply we should move “home” and be safe.  We are where God has placed us, and we will stay until He moves us on.

Even when the news stories affect us directly, we are better off in the will of God than in the safest town in America outside of God’s protection.

IRL:  If they only knew…..  Then again, maybe they wouldn’t pray so fervently if they knew how safe we are, so let’s leave them to assume what they want.

*On a serious note, were any of you adversely affected by the earthquakes in Costa Rica or China last week? I don't mean to make light of earthquakes just based on my limited experience.

When It Rains...

Life comes in waves. A couple of weeks ago I was complaining about being bored. No sooner had I published that than life got interesting in a hurry. Unexpected guests showed up for meals several days straight, followed by two weeks of some out-of-towners needing breakfast, lunch and dinner. My dear husband, dh*/Methuselah*/Jim helped with breakfast each morning with a typical Mexican breakfast they would like, so I can’t complain, but it did make the pace pick up around here.

Then circumstances forced us to do the daily “Laundry Line Dance. “ Living in a desert, we come to expect sunshine almost daily, 365 days a year. Even during rainy season we can generally manage without clothes dryer, hanging clothes in the mornings and removing them in the afternoon before the rain. Not the last few weeks, though. Several hurricanes and tropical storms have sent torrential rains even to this high desert.

Oh, and then the water pump died. That made for an interesting day. And wouldn’t you know it that was the very day the sun came out? Finally I could have dried the clothes if only I could have washed. My dh* came to the rescue once again, and brought a new pump back from a trip to the city. The next sunny morning, he was off to the city for yet another ministry errand while I was gleefully washing clothes, and then I realized something was terribly wrong.

Water was pouring – and I mean pouring! –off the roof. My dear daughter [dd*] and I looked at each other dumb-founded. This had happened many times through the years, but always one of the boys took care of it, shimmying up the tree to the roof to jiggle the floater that is supposed to indicate the tanks are full. Neither dd* nor I knew how to get on the roof since the one essential branch had broken. The gardener next door saw our dilemma, and brought a ladder over to solve the problem for us. Thank you, Lord.

Finally we settled back into home schooling, taking a break to hang the laundry when the rinse cycle completed itself. Within an hour, it started to rain. No sooner had the laundry been brought inside, it stopped. The sun came out, and we had to hang it all again (this time with the help of a local girl who helps me a few hours several times a week). It was just one of those days. We’ve all had them.

Thursday was another of those days, with a near-impossible trip to the orthodontist amid another deluge, traffic, roadblocks, detours, and potholes. On our arrival home, the road was under water, and we sloshed through deep mud, slid around a bit, and well, you get the idea. Two of my friends’ houses were ankle-deep in water, so I really can’t complain.

IRL* This week I have an escape. I am in Colorado, meeting our WOTH editor. This excitement is more to my liking.

[*see sidebar, Jamie Jo Speak]