| Building on Faith © Betty Sue Eaton |
Recently, I was privileged to participate in a missionary project in Mexico whose purpose
it was to built a house for a Mexican family of four. They had to invest in the project in a
substantial way in order to qualify to be chosen. They had to hold the deed to the
property they built on, put up quite a sum of money to assist in buying the building
products, but most of all, they had to invest in sweat-equity, working side by side with the
builder-missionaries.
The structure was a 21' by 21' dry-stacked concrete building consisting of three rooms:
Two bedrooms and a living-dining-kitchen area with no electricity, gas or plumbing
outlets. Although not grand by American standards, it was a wonderful home for the
family, and daily, they arrived at first light as we did, and stayed throughout the blazing
hot afternoon working as hard as we did. There was one edict: We, all 16 of us, had five
days to construct the house, clean up the site, plant a tree, and turn the key over to the
new owners. What a heart-warming experience it was to watch the tears of gratitude in
the eyes of the family, and to read the dedication inscribed in concrete on their front
step: God Lives Here!
We daily live our lives never expecting to have them devastated by tragedy or loss.
When such a thing happens, it completely changes the way we live, and we wonder if we
can ever get back to a semblance of sanity and order. Each of us has abilities we never
expect to have to call on in emergencies, but when loss occurs, we are pressed to use
them to reconstruct our lives. Doing that is much like building that concrete little house in
Mexico.
The blocks are the daily assurances that our lives will be nice, fulfilled, and rewarding;
and much like that little house, there is no mortar holding the blocks together. But one by
one, we stack them up and hope that they stand. Then a death, job loss, terrible illness,
or something comes along and bulldozes them to rubble, and we are faced with the task
of rebuilding from the ground up. But how can we? Like the little Mexican home, we must
reinforce the structure, not with steel rebar, but by holding fast to God's word. Like the
rebar that ran down the corners of the house and around the perimeter of the top, and
the roofing that was anchored by strong steel bolts, God's love and promises will be the
mortar and steel holding our blocks together. Trusting in His protection in times of trouble
is like the rebar holding the corners of our lives sturdy and strong, and His arms around
us day and night are like the bond-beam running the perimeter of the structure that
keeps it from shaking and falling into decay. And overlaying it all is His Holy Word to
which we can go for reinforcement like the roof over the little haven for that Mexican
family.
You have invested a lot in your life to now, but you don't think you have any abilities or
strength to build something for someone else, or rebuild your own life? You can discover
them when offer to help someone in greater need than you. That way, you can get some
distance from your own hurts and a perspective on how much you already have to build
upon. Several years ago, my shoulder was damaged by a fall on ice so it is weakened;
my knee was torn when I tried to climb from a ditch as we were building our retirement
home. I doubted that I could be of any help in building a house of any kind, much less
one whose basic elements weighed 22 pounds apiece and had to be carried some
distance to the structure. So I was assigned to be "water boy", and my job was to see
that everyone on the job was well hydrated in the Mexican heat. I fed them snacks, an
athletic-mix liquid, and plenty of water; I swabbed overheated necks and faces with cold
cloths, bandaged nicks and dings on hands, and found the whole time that I did not think
of myself at all, only of those building a "new start" for a very grateful Mexican family
whose investment in their lives was being rewarded. Now, God has rewarded me with a
brand new block to add to my life structure's accumulation of blocks.
it was to built a house for a Mexican family of four. They had to invest in the project in a
substantial way in order to qualify to be chosen. They had to hold the deed to the
property they built on, put up quite a sum of money to assist in buying the building
products, but most of all, they had to invest in sweat-equity, working side by side with the
builder-missionaries.
The structure was a 21' by 21' dry-stacked concrete building consisting of three rooms:
Two bedrooms and a living-dining-kitchen area with no electricity, gas or plumbing
outlets. Although not grand by American standards, it was a wonderful home for the
family, and daily, they arrived at first light as we did, and stayed throughout the blazing
hot afternoon working as hard as we did. There was one edict: We, all 16 of us, had five
days to construct the house, clean up the site, plant a tree, and turn the key over to the
new owners. What a heart-warming experience it was to watch the tears of gratitude in
the eyes of the family, and to read the dedication inscribed in concrete on their front
step: God Lives Here!
We daily live our lives never expecting to have them devastated by tragedy or loss.
When such a thing happens, it completely changes the way we live, and we wonder if we
can ever get back to a semblance of sanity and order. Each of us has abilities we never
expect to have to call on in emergencies, but when loss occurs, we are pressed to use
them to reconstruct our lives. Doing that is much like building that concrete little house in
Mexico.
The blocks are the daily assurances that our lives will be nice, fulfilled, and rewarding;
and much like that little house, there is no mortar holding the blocks together. But one by
one, we stack them up and hope that they stand. Then a death, job loss, terrible illness,
or something comes along and bulldozes them to rubble, and we are faced with the task
of rebuilding from the ground up. But how can we? Like the little Mexican home, we must
reinforce the structure, not with steel rebar, but by holding fast to God's word. Like the
rebar that ran down the corners of the house and around the perimeter of the top, and
the roofing that was anchored by strong steel bolts, God's love and promises will be the
mortar and steel holding our blocks together. Trusting in His protection in times of trouble
is like the rebar holding the corners of our lives sturdy and strong, and His arms around
us day and night are like the bond-beam running the perimeter of the structure that
keeps it from shaking and falling into decay. And overlaying it all is His Holy Word to
which we can go for reinforcement like the roof over the little haven for that Mexican
family.
You have invested a lot in your life to now, but you don't think you have any abilities or
strength to build something for someone else, or rebuild your own life? You can discover
them when offer to help someone in greater need than you. That way, you can get some
distance from your own hurts and a perspective on how much you already have to build
upon. Several years ago, my shoulder was damaged by a fall on ice so it is weakened;
my knee was torn when I tried to climb from a ditch as we were building our retirement
home. I doubted that I could be of any help in building a house of any kind, much less
one whose basic elements weighed 22 pounds apiece and had to be carried some
distance to the structure. So I was assigned to be "water boy", and my job was to see
that everyone on the job was well hydrated in the Mexican heat. I fed them snacks, an
athletic-mix liquid, and plenty of water; I swabbed overheated necks and faces with cold
cloths, bandaged nicks and dings on hands, and found the whole time that I did not think
of myself at all, only of those building a "new start" for a very grateful Mexican family
whose investment in their lives was being rewarded. Now, God has rewarded me with a
brand new block to add to my life structure's accumulation of blocks.
| A Christian Grief Ministry |
100's of Inspirational Grief Poems and Stories |