The Pull of Yucatan

The house is trashed. I know many of you are saying, "Catie, you always say that, and your house is never trashed." But literally, there's a smell coming from our bedroom of the unpacked clothes, but I'm procrastinating in a sweet way.

Jamie and I returned home last night from a nine-day missions trip to the state of Yucatan in Mexico. It was Jamie's 4th year, I think, and my second. That place is addicting. It's people. It's culture. For four years our team served the same village of Yobain, and this year, that village partnered with us to serve a neighboring village, X-Bec. I can't quite put into words what I'm thinking or feeling, but I know I saw Jesus.

I saw Jesus in the women who served me endlessly, though their own needs were greater. I saw Jesus in the value of simplicity, and my own neglect of that virtue. I saw Jesus as men gave up a week's salary for their family, to serve fellow brothers in Christ, as well as the lost. I saw Jesus in the eyes of children, hungry for hope, delight, and love. I saw Jesus in our youth, as they took their thoughts captive, and surrendered themselves to the call of Christ. I saw Jesus in Jamie, as men he loved on four years ago traveled to see him, hug him, love him. I'm a blessed gal.

It's kind of like being in labor. You forget the yuck, to press on to the glory. This morning, the lack of toilet paper and water, the abundance of heat, sweat, pain, bugs, spider, and icky tummies kind of fades from view, and I only remember woman after woman who hugged me and wept as she said, "In heaven, my friend."

Over this last week I became convinced my life is beautiful, and the moment I settle for comfort, may be the same moment I lose that beauty. So, "Come, Lord Jesus."