hello.hello.hola.

We had a group of YWAMers over for lunch today, they were a lovely group that openly shared how God had directed their life paths to Mexico City, acted like homemade bread was the best thing that had happened to them all week long, and graciously waited a long hour while the lasagna finished cooking.

After lunch was over, the conversation continued around the table (just the way I like it) and I went back into the kitchen to put on the coffee.  One of the sweet young ladies slipped in after me - her arms piled with dirty dishes.  I almost pushed her back to the table, but I'm glad I didn't.  As I made multiple pots of coffee, she washed my dishes and told me her story:

She was a young adult, and had found herself aimless, disappointed with life and completely and helplessly addicted to drugs;
she was hopeless - - a walking corpse - - a shame to her family.  On the day her mother had scheduled to check her in to a rehabilitation center,  she tried to run away;  she left her home and sat on the curb outside of her front door.  The day was beautiful . . . the sky was bright and the colors of the world around her were vibrant;  the sun was shining . . .
"why?" she cried out to God,
"why can the sun be so bright and my life be so dark?"
And as she pleaded with God to show Himself to her, a van drove by her;
a hippie van, she said.
On the side of the van were painted the words Jesus es el camino.  
Jesus is the way.
So she jumped off the curb, and she chased that van.
seriously.
she chased the van until she caught up with it!
She begged the driver to tell her what the sign meant, and he shrugged and told her that the van belonged to church across the street;  she was furious:
"what do you mean you don't know? How can you drive a van that says something like that and not know what it means?!" she yelled at him.
he sent her to the church to talk to someone there.

she went;
but the person that was supposed to talk to her was not there.
They sent her to another church.
She walked
and walked
and walked
until she found the other church.

It was there that she heard the story of the gospel - the story about how God's perfect love meant forgiveness and hope; she heard that her broken relationship with both the world and God could be made right.

and she was so relieved that she cried an ocean of tears.
(really!  she said that! - she said that she cried an ocean of tears;  sigh.  I love the way latinos talk about feelings!)

I was almost crying an ocean of tears by the time she finished her story.

Ah,
My God is tender.
He relentlessly pursues us with his love.
He gives us purpose
and hope (the eternal kind;  the kind that never, never fails us)

do you know Him?