Papi (my dad) finds things.
It's true! I'm pretty sure that when I was in high school, he built his entire tool collection by spotting loose tools on the side of the highway, pulling over, and running back to pick them up (this may not be legal;  please don't report him)

Ever since he started riding his road bike a million miles a month, his RTPW (roadside treasures per week) has reached new highs.

Last week Papi sent us an iPod - rescued off the side of the road during a recent ride.
the screen is cracked,
and we can't see any images on it.
but
the sound usually works . . .

So we're pretty happy.
(thanks Papi!) 

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?

There is a fantastic little restaurant named Volver down the street from us;  they serve a good cup of coffee and great plate of chilquiles (every Mexican's favorite breakfast).

We've made this place our own;  We've made it our business to find out the life stories of every waiter, to wave to the cooks and baristas whenever we walk by on our way to the park,  to pet every dog tied to the table of every hipster that eats there, and to dote on every baby that shows up.

And sweet Diana (restaurant owner-turned-friend) is lovely and accommodating;  She greets us with a kiss every time,  lets us spread out with our school supplies for as long as we want, and has never once complained about the scooters and helmets that my kiddos leave piled at her entryway.

we make a good pair, I think - Volver and the Smith family.

So I wonder - do you have a place to call your own?  A place to know and to be known?  I know that every family has different life patterns and different activities that they enjoy (mine just happens to involve food almost every time) I'm fascinated to hear about your place;  come on now - tell me!

Joshua had the day off yesterday, so we did speed schooling, loaded the kids up on their scooters and made the trip to Chapultepec park (it's maybe - a one hour walk?)

apparently Chapultepec has botanical gardens.
huh.
who knew?
(I think that pretty much no-one, since we were the only ones there)

We've been collecting some prints from the flea market down the way.  I finally got them framed this month.

So. Barry brought his drill to our last team meeting and instructed us in the marvelous, tricky ways of drilling holes in our walls  (thank you Barry!), and my whole collection is hung . . . even the empty frame where I intend to place that crazy cute wedding picture of Jim and Ginny as soon as they send it to me (ha! as if my amazing mother in law didn't have anything better to do than to sift through boxes of pictures to find the exact print that I have my heart set on!)

I think that this is the first time in 8 years that I have hung art on our walls (A classy person I know tells me that taped-up pictures don't really count)

I'm ecstatic . . . and inspired
who knows!?  the next time we have a guest stay in our guest room, I might have the curtains sewn into place instead of pinned!

We went for a walk yesterday afternoon.
Good thing we did.

If we hadn't, we wouldn't have run into the young mama who was there at the park when Josu broke his arm (you know - the one who was there with her curly-haired girly? - who gently approached and asked if she could do anything to help?); we wouldn't have had to opportunity to  introduced ourselves or to hear a slice of her life story, to exchange phone numbers or to make plans with her to meet up at the park.

If we hadn't, we wouldn't have stumbled upon those sculptures of fantastic, gigantic (what seemed to be) Chinese warrior heads.

If we hadn't, we wouldn't have crossed paths with our friend at a local restaurant;  we wouldn't have been able to smooch on her girl or hear about the business venture that she's excited about, and the other one that she's discouraged about.

We went for a walk.
Good thing we did.

Lucky us - - our friends Gloria and Angie invited us to celebrate 3 kings day with them ;  Of course we said yes!  It meant gifts for the kids, a big pot of hot chocolate, and a rosca de reyes - - a giant sweet bread ring.  Hidden inside each rosca are little plastic jesus'.  The way tradition goes, whoever gets served the slices with a plastic jesus, has to bring the tamales for the obligatory February 2nd follow-up get together! We cut the rosca just right - because all three of the kids got a slice with a plastic jesus doll (was it an accident?  I won't tell . . . )

So on February 1st, Selma and I set to wrapping corn masa and shredded pork in corn husks.  I think we make a pretty good team!